Gunfire Portraits
by LadyTigerFuyuko
Summary: A collection of Dante and Lady pieces, using prompts from Livejournal's OTP100 community. Some are romantic, others are platonic, but all of these fire off rounds about the younger son of Sparda and the descendant of the priestess. 3 more on 4/22/08!
1. 26 Parents

**DMC OTP100 Dante x Lady drabbles**

**Fuyuko: Hmm. Yep the internet is really, really bad for me. **

**Lady: Lazy. That's your problem.**

**Dante: I dunno, the internet is pretty addictive. Mundus could use it to brainwash people and take over the world.**

**Lady: I'd tell you both to stay off of it, but I wouldn't want to waste the effort.**

**Fuyuko: Besides, separating me from my internet makes me excessively unruly and violent. I need my information overload. Like I need short fics, whose characters I don't own, such as DMC and you two. As a blanket disclaimer for the rest of this series, Capcom owns Devil May Cry and all its inclusive paraphenelia.  
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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt #26 Parents**

**Word count: 438**

**Characters: Dante, Lady, mention of Eva, Sparda, Arkham, and Kalina Ann**

**Title: Fifth of Ten**

**Rating: G**

**Warnings: None, just reflections on the respective parentages.**

**&**

"Did you hate him?" Lady's eyes didn't move from their focus, but her tone told him she wasn't talking to the grave before her. It didn't tell him, though, which 'him' she was referring to. Dante assumed her own father, Arkham, as they were paying respects at her mother's grave.

"Honestly? Not really, he wasn't worth it. I was annoyed with him, hell yeah, but I hate only a couple of people Lady. The rest aren't worth it." She'd placed that boquet of snapdragons and tiger lilies on the grass of the cemetery already, flowers she'd hand picked and tied off with a child's pink hair band. There was also a .9mm bullet wrapped in that girly hair accessory.

"I see. So you didn't hate your father…even though, you told me it was his fault your mom died."

There was a silence then, as he realized he'd spoken about the wrong person and couldn't easily take back the words now. He shrugged it off after another beat of the moment, thinking that this really wasn't the place to discuss his past anyway. He'd agreed to come out of respect for hers, wanting to know why she honored her dead mother as much as he did Eva.

Eva…his mother, she wouldn't have wanted him to hate Sparda. His demon father had been her life, had given her a new life along with the twins they'd had out of love, and his human mother had loved the dark knight despite everything he was and that she was supposed to be. Would it be disrespectful of Dante to hate the man his beloved mother had shared her life with? He didn't know, and he didn't want to either.

"Your mother…what was she like? My mother, Kalina, she did everything with me. We played house, had tea with my stuffed animals, and even jogged together." Lady still wasn't looking at him, and he let it go. He knew it was hard to part with the person you loved and respected the most, even after they'd been dead for years.

"My mom, her name was Eva…she loved us, Vergil and I, with her life. We were her life, after he died, so she kinda threw herself into doing all sorts of stuff for us. Like making us chocolate cakes for our birthdays."

She nodded, turning slowly to face him, clenching her eyes closed to stem the few tears that had welled up despite her new strength and earned vengeance. They walked back to his motorcycle in silence, paying respect to dead mothers, and wondering how to handle the shadows of dead fathers.

**&**


	2. 43 Dog

**Disclaimer-Bot: Unfortunately for her, the author chick does not own DMC or any of the characters therein. Capcom owns those. **

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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt #43 Dog**

**Word count: 657**

**Characters: Dante, Lady, Giselle (OC), Cerberus**

**Title: Get a Dog (to Watch the Kids)**

**Rating: G**

**Warnings: None**

**&**

"You should get a dog if you're worried about her, then."

"It's not just that I'm worried about her, it's that I'm worried about the wrong people getting in the house when I'm not here. Burglars would be okay, she wouldn't get hurt then, but…"

"I know, Lady. Others like me and like you, but who wouldn't do for her what we did. Seriously, though, just get a dog. She'd like playing with one, probably could learn to hunt better from one, too." The man's baritone voice on the other end of the phone line sounded tired, but very much interested in their conversation as well. Nothing was more important than family, even sleep he had obviously not been getting.

She had no clue why Dante thought getting a dog would help out with keeping their adopted daughter safe from harm. No hunter would be afraid of a measly yapping terrier, heck, they probably wouldn't even fear a snarling wolfhound, no matter how huge those dogs were. And the other threat she was worried about invading the house and causing harm would definitely not be afraid of something they would consider a light snack before a 'kiddie meal'.

As silence reigned on her end of the phone, the man half-slumped over a dusty, unused countertop in a New York City kitchen sighed into the new cordless phone he'd bought. It couldn't be that hard to decide whether or not to get a dog, could it? Lady knew he had one of his own, and that Cerberus was the best guardian ever, especially when it came to people. Not that he was your run of the mill, dog, though, what with eating whole cows and living in the adjacent warehouse.

"This might sound stupid, but you do know we're not talking about a regular pooch, right?" Maybe that was the problem, the half-devil thought.

She felt stupid and annoyed, because she hadn't. "Why, or rather where, on earth do you think I'd get something that wasn't a 'regular pooch'?"

"All you have to do is ask, babe. I'm too busy to play with him lately, and he could use a good home." It was implied that he didn't really need a guard dog anymore, either because everyone was too scared to come into his place or because he was too powerful to be messed with.

"Would Cerberus like that? I'm not sure where I'd keep such a massive dog, or how I'd feed him." Excuses, excuses, but she wasn't too keen on a regular pooch, so a demonic one was even less appealing, though the thought of all the poop-scooping, walking, and food had more concern than iced-over ground at the moment.

"I could ask him, but I'm sure he'd love it. He likes the kid, and he would be honored to protect and teach someone who really needed his services. He is a devil arm, too, you know. And he can hold down a small, normal looking form, complete with shaggy white fur, if you're worried about that."

"I guess you'd want to drop him off, then? To say goodbye, I mean." She really tried to keep the hopeful tone out of her voice. They'd been over for a few years now, per mutual agreement. He probably won't come, the brunette thought sadly, he's got more important things on his plate…

"I'd love to, babe! Cerberus and I will be crashing onto your doorstep in two days. Just as soon as I get some shuteye, we'll leave." Dante could taste her happiness from his kitchen, even though New York and Tucson were more than a thousand miles apart. Absolutely nothing separates what comes and goes between hearts, like mom said, a smile lighting his face too as he hung up the phone.

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	3. 66 Necklace

**Disclaimer-Bot: I believe I am experiencing that feeling you fleshlings call deja-vu, by informing you that Capcom owns the right to DMC and all its characters, while the author chick, sadly, owns nothing.  
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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 66 Necklace**

**Word count: 524**

**Characters: Dante, Lady**

**Title: What Charming Gifts We Give**

**Rating: G**

**Warnings: None**

**&**

Some part of Dante told him not to open his big mouth and call it a special gift, although a conflicting part told him to tell her exactly why he'd gotten the heavy white gold necklace for her. On the one hand, she'd probably appreciate knowing it had defensive charms laid into it, but on the other hand she might not. They might protect her, but they were also the residual magic of a devil that had possessed it previously. And try as she might, there were just some things Lady could not handle when it came to demons and their powers, like using that power for herself.

He understood, on a few levels, the most face-slapping one being her obvious hate for anything that would make her any more like her father than she already was. The wild white-haired youth appreciated her mismatched eyes, found them more eye-catching than even his own stunning ice blues. But he knew she hated looking into them in the morning's shower fogged mirror, knew why that pretty face grimaced at its own reflection. On another, more distant and less comprehensible level, he knew his own mother had hated demons and their power before meeting Sparda, and knew that despite loving him and their boys, Eva had still flatly refused to have anything to do with demonic power.

She'd use what she had, thank you, weak human or not. And to be honest, both she and Lady could still kick demon ass, although not on any kind of level that his sire, brother and he could. So he probably wouldn't tell Lady that there were defensive spells laid into the necklace he'd polished and boxed in velvet himself. Bit like Pops not telling mom about modifying a few of her guns and occasionally detonating an explosive with demon magic for her, the half-devil figured.

Besides, there was no reason something like that should ruin a perfectly good anniversary dinner date. Heck, it would even help out when they got attacked by demons like they had every year since he'd proposed to Lady. Apparently someone was left in the underworld, and that someone didn't appear to like the thought of a traitorous Sparda breeding any more than Mundus had liked it in his parents' time.

Not that they were married yet, as he'd promised a long time ago to bring his family back before he set out to have one of his own. At this rate, though, it looked like Dante and his Lady would need some family support to even get a wedding date set, to say nothing of actually pulling it off. Well, the more the merrier, and all that jazz, he smirked as he straightened out the red dress sweater he'd put on, slipping the renewed antique necklace into a pocket on his black dress slacks. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to tell her that he'd picked it up at the antique store to stop some innocent from getting the charmed necklace, even though the spells were harmless. After all, she had no problem kissing his demonic form any more than his human one, these days.

**&**


	4. 60 Exlover

**Disclaimer-Bot: Once again I am required to mete out the information that the author chick does not own Devil May Cry or any of its characters, those rights are exclusive to Capcom.**

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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt #60 Ex-Lover**

**Word count: 313**

**Characters: Dante, Lady, Vergil**

**Title: Together**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Warnings: Slight twincest, implied underage activities**

**&**

It really was strange, she thought, to watch them battle each other, after hearing each speak so…affectionately…of the other. Men and their hormones, Lady surmised, although to be fair her own hormones had a hard time deciding with which half-devil her loyalties laid.

There were perks to both, she knew, having been lover to the older first, coaxed like a soft young filly into harsh nips at her throat and mewling cries stifled into his dark vest's front. They'd both been young, and she knew now, not committed to anything other than satisfying the hungers of their young bodies. It had been open rebellion too, she supposed, Mary acting out against her seemingly straight-laced archeologist father; Vergil openly defying the wavering control that a mere human dabbling in the dark arts had tried to impress on his superior demonic self.

On the reverse, her relationship with Dante had been more realistic, a mutual decision to try dating someone who understood the lives they both led, and when they did get around to being lovers, he'd been willing to let her come to him, treat him like a human man with soft kisses and gentle touches, although making love in the dark lost its use when he could see in it anyway. The younger twin had certainly been perfectly okay with doing things the human way, letting her take charge as often as himself, and somehow the whole deal was always only about them, not about spiting anyone else, even though he had to know she'd been with Vergil first.

Was Dante the one she should be rooting for then? It certainly seemed as though her heart had chosen him, even if her body grumbled that both had the same benefits. Bodily they might be the same, but only one twin was capable of loving her, and in the end, that was what Lady wanted.

**&**  



	5. 34 Minivan

**Disclaimer-Bot: This is tedious work. Be thankful that I am a superior robot and not a whiny human assigned to perform the task of telling you that Devil May Cry is owned by Capcom and no one else, despite the wishes of the author chick and countless fan-things.**

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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 34 Minivan**

**Word count: 115**

**Characters: Dante, Lady**

**Title: Load 'Er Up**

**Rating: G**

**Warnings: None **

**&**

She knew her husband had wanted to have a large family, but Lady had never really thought he'd want one this big. Then again, she used to think that devils didn't want family at all, until she met Dante and his brother. Despite describing his family as dysfunctional, she eventually saw how much the half-devil she married four years ago loved his family.

And she was glad to be able to give him a new family, to create and share new happily dysfunctional moments with him, but this was still outrageous. Loading up a minivan with four kids and an icy hellhound was not what she had planned on spending half their family vacation doing!

**&**


	6. 78 Rebirth

**DMC OTP100 Dante x Lady drabbles**

**Fuyuko: Yes, there are more of these. Right now, these are the only few done, but drabbles are short and sweet, so more should come soon. Don't exactly know if we'll do all 100 though, since I don't actually have a claim for this pairing over in LJ-land.**

**Disclaimer-Bot: Though I have little expertise with claims and LJ-land, I am certified to disclaim any rights the author chick has to Devil May Cry or any of its inclusive characters or properties.  
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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 78 Rebirth **

**Word count: 501 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady **

**Title: Revenge is Golden **

**Rating: PG-13 **

**Warnings: Some gore, character death, and violence. **

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Even as she ran, the demon hunter knew there was no way she could get out of this. They were faster and stronger, in the next few minutes they would be on her, ripping and tearing into the soft white skin of her fragile human body. Her guns were low on ammo, hell, the most damage her bullets had been doing earlier was to the pack of demons' pride. Up ahead of her, the brunette could see slight cover, but a prickling in her neck told her she would never make it.

The prickle turned into a trickle all of a sudden, and the screaming pain that flared through her body with it told her she'd been caught at last. Stumbling, she was sure the wickedly long and sharp claws she had seen on the demons earlier had torn her back wide open, for which she found herself oddly grateful. If they cut into her spine first, it was likely she wouldn't feel them ripping her apart at the limbs to get at the fleshier parts of her body. And indeed, she realized there was almost no pain flaring up even though she knew that her right arm was gone and that one of them was bearing done on her right hip, intending to gnaw off a tender piece of leg. She had to be dying or dead, because she could barely see at all now, and it wasn't because the room was dark. Her hearing seemed to be lost too, and she doubted the demons found ears tasty.

But if she was dead, why was she still thinking? The brunette didn't know what came after death but it surely couldn't be this. What was this anyway? She felt like she was back in her body, like she was alive and uneaten again, so much so that she chanced opening her eyes.

"Nice to see you back on your feet, Lady. You gave me a scare, letting those demons chew on you like pups on a rawhide."

"Dante? …I thought I was dead. You didn't die either did you? One of us had to kill those demons!"

"Relax, babe. I killed the demons. And I revived you. Used one of these babies, something you might want to pack next time."

Her red-coated partner tossed her a golden hued, oddly face-shaped orb, then lent his large and powerful hand down to help her back to her feet. Well, not that she wasn't grateful for the revive, but you would think he could have told her something like this sooner. Following him, Lady could feel her irritation rising, and she wondered if a gold orb would be needed to revive him too, if she shot him, just like the first time they'd met. No better way than to try it out, right? Blam! Blowing smoke off her gun, she listened to the half-devil cuss as she realized that it would take a lot more than a simple gunshot to make a gold orb necessary for him.

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	7. 7 Trouble

**Disclaimer-Bot: Unfortunately and to her continued dismay, the author chick still does not own DMC or any of the characters therein. Capcom owns those. **

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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 007 Trouble **

**Word count: 288 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady **

**Title: Burning Pain **

**Rating: G **

**Warnings: Very minor language **

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"No way! Dammit, that did not just happen!"

With a frustrated snarl, the red-coated young man kicked the crumbling wall of the seemingly abandoned building he was inside. In response, the abused wall gave a shuddering, pathetic moan and collapsed on itself in more than a dozen splintering cracks. The young man ignored it though, because quite frankly, right now a measly collapsed old wall was the least of his trouble.

In the process of his demon-hunt here, everything had gone fairly smoothly and it seemed he'd make his 5:45 dinner date with an old friend. However, right before he'd come up alongside the old wall, the half-devil hunter had come upon some trouble from a pack of persistent Beezelbubs. Normally the little annoying bugs were just that, a tiny nuisance, but this time they'd made a bigger pest of themselves when they'd spit acid on some precious cargo Dante had, melting it into a perfect puddle of ooze.

Of course, he probably wouldn't have taken so much offense if it hadn't been extremely special cargo. His dinner date and he hadn't spoken in quite some time, and with her, he'd learned long ago how important it was to use bribery to get in the good graces as soon as possible. So Dante had actually gotten out of his office for something other than work for once and hand-picked a brand new, super-shiny, completely decked out submachine for his friend Lady.

Unfortunately for him, the freaking Beezelbubs had other ideas about gift-giving. The hunter gave a long suffering sigh and discarding the ruined piece over his right shoulder, he blasted the last few larvae on his way out, hoping the rest of his evening wouldn't be more troublesome.

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	8. 28 Uncle, 29 Brother

**Disclaimer-Bot: Once again, I return to inform you that Devil May Cry and all its inclusive characters and properties belong to Capcom, not the author chick. Why can you fleshlings not remember such a miniscule detail?  
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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 28 Uncle and # 29 Brother **

**Word count: 535 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady, Giselle, Vergil **

**Title: Mommy, I Want a Baby Brother **

**Rating: PG **

**Warnings: Some innuendo, passing mention of violence. **

**& **

"She keeps asking you for what?!"

"She keeps asking me for a brother. A little brother, Dante, do you have any idea how limited my responses are for that kind of question?"

"Uh, let me think. Hm…Yes! Jeeze, Lady, of course I know how limited your options are there."

Somehow, the Arizona based hunter just knew what was coming next, probably because it was old hat for her half-devil compatriot and they both knew it. It was ironic that at one point in time she would have already been firing the guns at him, but now she was just patiently waiting for him to drop it.

"You know, I could come down and give you the solution to that problem."

"No thanks, Dante. In my book, you and Giselle are the exceptions to the rule. Vergil was the rule. Besides, I don't think she wants twin brothers."

"Aw, c'mon, babe, nobody said anything about twins or evil brothers. …Although, I do wonder what Vergil would think of his being an uncle."

She could almost see her New York based fellow hunter picturing that scene, his perfectly symmetrical aristocratic face scrunching up at his long nose, mouth pulling a grimace that might peep sharper than normal canines. Undoubtedly, he was getting a similar picture to the one she was having. His far too serious elder twin brother, in the long, stylized, silk blue dress coat and black suit vest and pants he'd last been seen wearing, holding tightly onto the deadly Yamato blade and scowling with disgust as his darling niece and nephews clambered loudly around his knees in an imitation of the father they obviously took after.

Uncle Vergil would probably not be able to decide whether chopping the brats into sashimi was worth the wrath he might incur from the two hunters currently thinking of the entire scene. Of course, as far as Dante was imagining things, his brother was also struggling not to be proud of the part-demon brood that the younger twin had brought up, because Dante knew his brother did in fact love his family. Vergil just was too rigid to show affection, especially when he felt it was his duty to be the serious, stalwart protector of the family name and legacy.

"Well, tell Giselle she can have a brother later, when her uncle gets back and she meets her grandpa Sparda and grandma Eva."

"She's going to ask me how long that will take."

"Tell her that Daddy's working on the spell that will use his red orb stash to bring back grandpa Sparda. Then we'll come out there with everyone and bring mom back before we jump into hell looking for Vergil."

"I'll be waiting for you then."

And he hung up at his end, Lady hearing the click, knowing that soon they would be surrounded by family again, and not minding the loneliness of the moment in the least. She'd wait however long it took to be with loved ones again, because waiting was nothing compared to everything else that had to be done for the family of hunters. _'Plus,' _she grinned, _'it'll be worth it just to see Vergil's face when he hears he's an uncle.' _

**&**


	9. 92 Christmas

**Disclaimer-Bot: Yes, the rights to DMC, Dante, Lady, and all others in the series are still in the grips of Capcom, despite any ridiculous arguments to the contrary.  
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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 92 Christmas **

**Word count: 270 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady **

**Title: Jolly Old St. Nick **

**Rating: PG-13 **

**Warnings: Innuendo, mentioned adult situations **

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Sometimes her husband's ability to still wear tight red leather and spandex outfits annoyed her to no end, but other times it had benefits. Like at Christmas time. Sure they didn't really believe in Christianity or practice any other religious customs in their family, since his mother was atheist and his father and all the rest of the Spardas were at least part devils and she didn't care one way or the other. But they did do a small Christmas get-together, because it looked normal and the kids enjoyed it.

Actually, the kids enjoyed getting presents, and for all she told them not to be greedy, she had to admit to herself that it was good they ran off with their toys every year. Her in-laws were off watching them, so she was sure the little ones weren't going to start ripping each other apart with the new swords their uncle Vergil had given them, and the bachelor himself was probably off doing reading in the extensive library. So everyone was out of her husband's sight but herself, and of course, that meant she got her present directly from St. Nick himself.

And right now, she really enjoyed that her husband liked tight red leather and spandex outfits that she could rip off and not have to bother with anything else. She knew where her kids got that greedy desire to play with their presents immediately from, and she wasn't ashamed at all. Being greedy just meant you got longer to enjoy your favourite Christmas gift, and the less wrapping on it, the better, as far as she was concerned.

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	10. 85 Read

**Disclaimer-Bot: Do you have any idea how many super-heroines there actually are? The author chick is still reeling from the list she found on Wikipedia. Thankfully, this distracts her from plotting to take DMC and its characters away from Capcom, not that she could ever achieve such a pipe dream.  
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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 85 Read **

**Word count: 323 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady **

**Title: Name **

**Rating: G **

**Warnings: None **

**& **

"You said your name was Dante? And your brother, he's Vergil, right?"

"That's us." He didn't say it, but she could see the question rising in his unnaturally blue eyes, wondering why a girl he barely knew was getting into his personal business.

"It's just struck me how odd those names are. You do realize where they're from, right?"

"Yep. Dad loved the Divine Comedy, though for the life of me I can't figure out why he pulled our names from it. I'm nothing like that Dante." Of course he wasn't, or at least he'd deny any similarities, even though he'd just been led through a hellish place by a man named Vergil. Then again, she supposed he didn't want to admit to being roped along by his older brother, his only remaining family, any more than she had wanted to be used by her father. Or even connected to him by names.

"You're father must have been very well-read. …It's not something I'd associate with a demon." But, hadn't her father become a demon? And he had certainly been well-read, as a manager of antiquities at the local university.

"Demons can be just like people, or at least, that's what Mom used to tell us. I always thought she meant they could disguise themselves, but now I'm thinking she meant something else." That people could be just as bad as demons, or, the newly named Lady amended, that a devil could be as caring as a human. Or a half-devil, at any rate. She'd never met Sparda, so she couldn't say anything there.

"At least you didn't name me from some book you've read."

"Babe, I don't read these days. I haven't had time for a good book in ages. Although, if I did pick one, I'd probably use some hot super-chick's name from a comic book."

"Ugh, don't. I'll stick with Lady, thanks." Apparently he wasn't as well-read as his sire.

**&**


	11. 80 Curse

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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 80 Curse **

**Word count: 823 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady **

**Title: It's a Curse, So How Come It Doesn't Hurt? **

**Rating: PG-13 **

**Warnings: Excessive violence and descriptive gore, but it's only demons, so who cares? Also, as to the prompt, I'm sure anyone who's played DMC has noticed Dante has a penchant for getting stabbed…or a curse, if you want to look at it that way. :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry, or any of its characters. **

**& **

Dante ripped across the antechamber, grabbing onto a pole with his left hand and firing around the room with Ebony in his right hand, hitting dozens of demons as he swung around and around, like a clock's gear gone insane. His consistent spiraling motion meant that every demon was getting hit at least a couple of times per round, and the damage was visibly adding up, a few of the weaker ones already crumbling to the cold embrace of the stone floor, making it slick with sand. The wild white-haired half-demon whooped and hollered as he went on his course, giving a Cain-raising ululation as he let go after one more pass, having had his fill of the dizzying dance.

His speed propelled him through the air, directly towards an intended and unprepared victim, one of the larger demons, whose preference for a lack of armor seemed to indicate it had considerable confidence in its own tough hide. Too bad it didn't seem to factor surviving crazed half-demons into its calculations for what to wear as armor, a fact it was surely lamenting as the aforementioned half-demon's wild shot through the air brought his body slamming into its own. It might have gone better for the unfortunate demon if Dante hadn't impacted it boots first – heavy, steel-toed boots first. The impact shattered its ribcage and went on to crush its torso down to a mush of squished internal organs, completely ignoring the large demon's supposedly tough hide.

Dante would have stood upright and starting crowing about his "sticking the perfect dismount" but he was forced to stay hunched over as a young woman with a large rocket launcher chose that exact moment to back-flip over him, simultaneously rapid-firing at the demons that had doggedly pursued her from the other side of the antechamber, despite some pretty heavy losses to their numbers.

Lady had already taken out four of them, and had been working on her fifth when they'd managed to start a pincer movement around her. She had quickly back-flipped and at the top of her arch, fired Kalina Ann into the stone below, knocking the demons back and using the blast force to push herself higher, so that her ultimate leap sent her even farther out of their grasp. She had slid on some of the sand that the half-dozen demons Dante's earlier pole-action had left behind when nixed, but had used the faux-pas to her advantage, twisting her legs back under her and making the downward motion into a backward one that sent her skidding towards her partner, as she fired at the oncoming demons from her semi-automatic rifle.

The rifle's kickback had kept her sliding backwards on the sandy terrain, and when its clip was empty, she had dropped a pair of timed-release sulfur-chloride bombs onto the floors and sent them spinning away with a low sweep-kick. Off of the sand, the bi-color eyed brunette had dodged a scythe that one had coming spinning at her from where it had been blasted from its posthumous owners hands, by vaulting over her partner's hunched form. Landing on the head of the demon with the crushed torso, condemning it ultimately as its skull fragmented under her the pressure of her weight being pulled down by gravity onto it, she had fired over the young man's sword-laden back to nail her last two pursuers with her dual sub-machine guns. The two demons groaned as the line of bullets that ran from their middles up to the tip-tops of their grey skulls poured out brownish blood, leaving them nothing short of dead.

There were still five demons left, but they hesitated at the fringes of the antechamber, watching as Lady switched out one sub-machine for an automatic pistol, checking the cartridges on both with meticulous care. When she was done, she spared her partner a glance, seeing that he was still hunched over – and that he was dripping blood at a pretty good rate for a half-demon with his healing capabilities. Grunting, Dante lifted his right arm over his head, beginning to tug on something embedded in his left side. Soon enough, it popped free with a sick squelch, the wound's bleeding rapidly ebbing off as his body found it could no heal unobstructed by a mis-landed scythe.

The words were on both their tongues immediately, not "are you alright", but "it's never a job for Devil May Cry if Dante doesn't get stabbed", because the former was unnecessary and the latter was just too tempting. Grinning like lunatics, the pair shook their heads and launched into the remaining demons with no less vigor than before, shooting and blasting away at the children of the night, whose last thoughts were only a wish for a less destructive reception next time. At least they could tell their leaders the Son of Sparda could be hit, even if it hadn't hurt him in the end.


	12. 73 Fishing

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**DMC OTP100**

**Prompt # 73 Fishing **

**Word count: 1,178 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady **

**Title: You Really Want to Catch It, Don't You? **

**Rating: PG-13 **

**Warnings/Author's Notes: Erk, sorry, this got longer than intended, but it was very enjoyable to write and every sentence was worth it. There is an allusion to intended sex throughout the story, but it's not anything overt and there is no actual mention of graphic material, so it's kid-safe. Well, the necessary killing of demons too, so violence, but it's not graphic either, so keep your gaskets from blowing. And no, Lady isn't dead when Dante's in his twenties, since they're only about 2 yrs. apart.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry, Dante, or Lady. Or anything else own by Capcom.**

**& **

It was hot in New York right now, but Lady thought it felt wonderful after the time she'd spent in Arizona for the last few years of her life. It was a different kind of heat here, the kind that didn't leave your lungs feeling like a dried up ditch after every breath. It would still be nice to get inside, however, even if she could only sit in the lobby. There was still air-conditioning, and furthermore, there was less of a chance that some lunatic New York cabbie would make her a victim of vehicular manslaughter the farther she was from the swarming streets. The thought spurred her inside the relative safety of the fancy hotel in front of her.

As soon as she entered, Lady was struck with how quiet the place was. Not the kind of eerie quite a hunter like her was used to, but it was definitely odd. You'd expect this nice of a hotel to have charming music piped softly in or to even have a few guests sitting around waiting for transportation…she tried not to think that the quiet was a side-effect of…well, she'd told him not to pick someplace like that. Sitting down on a plush office grey love-seat, the twenty-something crossed her legs to keep from tapping them irritably.

Dante would never have picked someplace obviously sleazy, but she was pretty sure he'd also understood that the threat of pain to his person extended to picking any place with a seedy underside or whatever. There was no way she'd stand for that, and he knew not to push that line if he really wanted what he'd been after. If he screwed it up now…and he was already, because she's told him not to make her sit around waiting on his demon ass…but that's what she was doing right now. Lady cleared her throat and uncrossed her legs, forcing herself to stop clenching her fists around her dress hem.

She studied it instead, focusing her mismatched eyes on the deep _sangría_ hue and the crushed velvet material. He liked leather, and when the young store clerk had told her that the color name it bore was similar to the Spanish word _sangre_ – which she knew meant blood – she'd bought it, despite its somewhat bank-breaking price-tag. It was an appropriate choice for what she had finally agreed to, as far as Lady was concerned, and at this point in their lives, she knew the connotations would not all be lost on Dante either. She glanced out of the corner of her left eye and towards the glass doors at the sound of a loud engine from street, and although there was a motorcycle, it was neither the right make nor the right color. Where the heck was he? The only way she'd excuse this was if Hell itself had held him up…which it just might have considering who he was…and what had happened to his mother because of his father…that probably wasn't the best thought to be having right now. She'd already given him her promise.

In return for his, of course. As he himself had said, he wouldn't have kept going after the same fish if he hadn't realized that by holding out, they were making the ending better. It would have been too scripted if they'd managed to get to this place easily, if there hadn't been any complications on either of their parts, and to be honest, life unscripted definitely was better. There was another roar, and although this one thundered on around the corner, she knew it was the right one without glancing up. She was a bit preoccupied with the way the desk-clerk was giving her a one-over to worry about where the half-demon parked his precious. It really was an unusual look to be giving someone…and she seriously doubted he knew there was a TP9 wedged in her strapless under-wire…so why was he looking at her like that?

"Sorry I'm late, babe. Got caught in the usual traffic, though I kinda expected it."

He was standing next to her, the warmth of his more than human body eddying slowly away from him, along with that tough, musky, almost metallic scent that was uniquely him. With her sitting down, the height disparity was even more noticeable, which grated on her almost as much as the thought that he was undoubtedly enjoying the top down view of her in a tight sheath dress. Perverted demon…she though about calling him on it because it would take him down a peg from his elation at having finally caught the desired fish…but first, there was some work to do. Lady stirred, shifting forward so that her weight pushed onto the low-top suede boots she had worn, and she used his hand to lever herself up when he proffered it. She could count on him being armed too, without looking or asking, neither of them had gone anywhere unarmed since they were teenagers.

"I guess I can forgive it this time, my devil. Although, you might have to work if you want to sink a fish tonight."

There weren't any other patrons in the immediate area, but by his posture she could guess that there were some uninvited guests waiting just outside of her human sense ranges. You'd think they would have been more careful with who she'd chosen to tango with…but then, demons never were very smart, at least not the grunts like these…her devil was pretty smart, having shot the desk-clerk with a silenced Walther P99 immediately from his left hand, his right snaking down the top of her dress while she sided up against him, a minimized target, and yanking out the TP9 to drop it into her hand. Of course, he'd taken the golden opportunity to check out her chest, but well, that was fine considering why they were here. Lady smiled as she tapped a hole in the head of a rapidly de-morphing bellboy, licking her off-white teeth as she heard Dante abandoned the Walther for his traditional guns, tossing it over his shoulder at her feet. She kicked it up and began firing down two perpendicular hallways that had hellish staff pouring down them, backing up until she could feel a wall of solid and steely muscle against her spine. Well, that was ironic.

_"So, what's your name?" _

_"I don't have a name!" _

_"Okay, so then, what should I call you?" _

_"I don't care; whatever you want!" _

_"Huh…whatever, Lady!"_

And they were laughing, almost cackling with glee at being where they belonged, blasting hell-spawn back to their pits and standing back to back, the whole thing so easy it was like going fishing. Dante had definitely been the right choice, had been worth the good and bad times between the two of them, and Lady knew tonight's reward wouldn't be the last time either of them went fishing for the other's gifts. She almost felt like they had finally gotten a blessing, and she silently thanked Kalina Ann, Eva, and Sparda for bringing them home.


	13. 5 Anger

**Disclaimer-Bot: I have returned, fleshlings. I am sure that you all felt emotions of deepest suffering in my absence, but I would ask that you refrain from hugging me. I am simply her to disclaim that the author chick has no rights to DMC or any of its characters, such as Dante or Lady, those belong solely to Capcom. **

**&**

**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 5 Anger**

**Word count: 1,232, bit long again.**

**Characters: Dante, Lady**

**Title: Mad with Lust**

**Rating: A mild R, not suitable for those under 16 or sensitive to mild sexual situations or the f-word, the only swear word here.  
**

**Warnings/Author's Notes: As seen above, you have been warned not to read this is you can't handle a few allusions to sex, but the content is nothing terribly R-rated, trust me. Obviously, I've played with the meaning of 'mad' in the title, it can be taken to mean to be crazy, angry, or just set into an excited state. It's an apt title for this particular piece, on more than one level. A continuation of chapter 12, prompt #47, but you needn't read that one first. **

**&**

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. Their reception at the desk had been rather more than violent, decidedly bloody, and far too short to satisfy. They were alike in that, in willingly riding the adrenaline rush to a hot, heady, blood-lust that swallowed them whole for a good while, even after a battle was over. And the battle was over, or a least the mortal one they'd been fighting down in the fancy hotel's lobby. They were in the elevator now, still riding that twisted surge of adrenaline, letting it move them.

The bell chimed for the fourth floor, and Lady pushed hard on the formidable wall of Dante's still vested chest muscles, wanting to not be pressed into the doors when they opened on the fifth and final floor. He growled, annoyed more with the impatient elevator than with her, but consented to re-pinning her elsewhere in the damned contraption. She bit his lower lip in retaliation for being denied freedom, splitting it and tasting the hot, bitter, sulfur and iron tang of his inhuman blood on her own tongue as it swept the no longer wounded lip in a frenzy, hands that had long ago delved into his unfastened pants grazing hard thighs with her short, manicured nails. Dante ground his pelvis hard against hers in frustration, her red-hued sheath sliding above her hips, and crushed her between his searingly hot, hard, muscled body and the chillingly cold, sturdy, steel elevator wall in response to her act, his passion fueled by lust and the remnants of aggression. A chime sounded again, and she pulled back from their wet and aggravated tongue war, panting hard from the earlier fight and their R-rated elevator trip.

"Fifth floor, all lusty patrons off." Somehow, somewhere in their time together and apart, she had learned to lay out quips as bad as his classics.

"That's good; I wouldn't have wanted a lady to pass out from how hot it was in here." Really, that was bad even for him, but he'd picked up her bad habits too, and one of them was having the last word.

Dante grabbed her before she could open her mouth, not bothering to readjust his clothes or hers, the former because he was never one to hide his body, and the latter because it meant he could continue to mold his hands onto the bare flesh of her hips and thighs. He was basically holding her up with his index fingers interlocked underneath her soft, white buttocks, leaving all eight of his other fingers free to roam as far as the stretch of his large hands would allow. Her panties were still on, of course, and he did believe in delaying that gratifying moment as long as possible. Ripping them off in a hallway just wasn't romantic, and he was here because he wanted to do more than just sex his lady up and leave in the morning. That didn't mean his each of his ring and middle fingers weren't alternating between rubbing and probing her innermost parts, causing Lady to moan, twitch, and clutch his biceps with enough force to break a regular person's arms, muscles still fueled by her earlier angry adrenalin surge. All too swiftly, they had arrived at a door marked 513 in bold, gold embossed, plated numbers.

It was their room, the one he'd reserved without thought, then realized that it had a strange numerical significance for them and wondered if the gods were laughing at him again. As long as they didn't decide to fuck this over for a sick joke, he had decided not to care, as he didn't believe numbers held any luck, good or bad. The only luck out there was the luck you went out and grabbed for yourself, the opportunities and leaps of faith taken on your own will-power. Kind of like this, where they'd only managed to make it happen tonight as a result of their own fierce determination and strength.

It didn't matter to him as he handed her the key to open the door, if it had been five months since they'd officially promised to marry, though she never wore an engagement ring, just a frozen red drop of his demonic blood in a choker. It didn't matter to him as he laid her down on the quilted bed and stripped off his red overcoat, that it had been one week since they'd agreed to consummate their relationship now, even though they weren't going to get married until some family matters had been attended to. It didn't matter to him as she stripped off his vest and pants and he pulled the sheath over her head, that it had taken them three days working together to nail down their personal security on this place, so that they wouldn't get slaughtered by demons in their afterglow. Nothing mattered to Dante except Lady and tonight, their first night, a night he swore would not be their last, even if he had to get angry and fight to make it so. He would not repeat history. She would not repeat history.

Lady had shimmied out of her black, cotton panties and unclasped her strapless bra, a new surge of adrenaline swelling up and letting her ride it as Dante's unnaturally blue eyes roved over her naked form, eating her in a dual way that would have made her shoot him if he'd been any other man or demon. She could see his human hunger for the lust-filled actions ahead of them just as plainly as his demonic hunger for the lust and love they were already generating. It didn't bother her as much as it would have way back when, because now she trusted him not to go over the edge and because she knew it was only making a good demon a stronger, better one. Besides, Lady had returned the gaze admirably as Dante had yanked off his tight, black boxer briefs, tossing them onto her own black pile of undergarments. She skimmed her mismatched eyes down the hard lines of his torso, following a trail of pale, silvery gray hairs down from his navel to his most private parts, silently savoring the intimacy they had now. Soon, they would be enveloped in another surge of adrenalin, letting it aggressively push them into this, drive them wild in each other's arms.

It had been hard won, this moment. It was worth every second of it, every adrenalin pumping moment, every series of heartbeat raising minutes, from the minute they tossed down the numerous covers to the minute they pulled the thin sheet back on top of their satiated, sweaty bodies. Dante's weight pushing down on her gently as he slid in for the first time and back out to begin a rhythm of their pent-up passion, Lady's hips open and welcoming him at the same time her arms wrapped around him to create an intimate embrace from their long-withheld love. Their breath thickening the air around them, making it heavy, his demonic aura snapping and crackling in the air, charging it, her voice in the air over the melody of their bodies, giving it music, changed air that reflected their changed world. The anger they'd felt at the world as youths had been melted long ago by meeting each other. Tonight they would learn to love the world for the opportunity it had finally given them as adults, even if they'd had to fight for it.

**&**


	14. 61 Snow

**Disclaimer-Bot: I believe I have stated this already, but the rights to Devil Macy Cry, or DMC, and its inclusive characters belong to Capcom. Not to the author of this compilation of drivel, much to her dismay.  
**

**& **

**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 61 Snow **

**Word count: 539 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady **

**Title: Snowball? What Snowball? **

**Rating: PG-13 **

**Warnings: Fluff. Pure, unadulterated fluff. Also, Dante's potty-mouth. **

**& **

Something cold and wet was sliding down the back of his neck, jarring Dante into wakefulness even though he'd just sunk into a deep sleep. Aside from being slashed open by demons, he couldn't think of anything worse than being awoken by the cold, liquid sliding sensation he was currently experiencing. God help the bastard who was the cause of it, because a sleepy Dante was not a particularly merciful one.

"What the hell?"

"Good morning to you too, sleepy-head."

The cranky half-devil opened his mouth to tell Lady to shut up, but his sharp eye-sight caught evidence of something that stopped him short. Wet. The floor near her booted feet and slender legs wrapped up warmly in thick sweatpants was wet. Now, unless his office had sprung a leak or suddenly started taking on water, the only way the floor could be wet was if…

"Have you been outside? In the snow?"

"What makes you think that, sleeping beauty?"

Shifting into a sitting up position from where he'd been laying on his stomach along his overstuffed loveseat, Dante narrowed his eyes at his suspect. She was definitely acting weird, with the fake charm she was tossing at him and standing there like she was waiting for something. Nobody else was in the room, either, except for Cerberus, but like Dante had been, the hellhound was enjoying a nap.

"You were! You threw a snowball at my neck while I was asleep, didn't you? You bitch!"

"What snowball, you idiot? I don't see any evidence of a snowball around here."

"That's because you threw it at me!"

"If I had thrown this supposed snowball, there'd be snow on the floor, stupid!"

Halfway across the floor to her position by his desk, Dante had to stop and consider her statement. While he did concede it was true that throwing a snowball would have left a trail of snowflakes in its wake, it still didn't mean she hadn't done something to him. He looked down at the floor to think, but his head shot back up as he realized he was standing over a wet set of boot-tracks that led from her…to the couch. Smirking, he crossed the rest of the trail of boot-prints over to Lady's side.

"You know, you're right." He liked the way she shivered under his hot breath as it settled on her cool skin. Justice had a name and a stylish sensation. "You didn't throw a snowball at me. You just shoved a pile down my back!"

Hefting her with a swing onto his left shoulder, the half-devil ran and kicked open the doors to his office with a bang, letting in a blast of cold outside air. She was pounding his back, but she was also laughing, so he tossed her out into a snowdrift that had piled up by the short stairway into his office building. When she emerged, with her expression warring between fuming and laughing, he pelted her with a snowball to mask his getaway around the side of the building. Of course, she tore after him as soon as she had extracted herself from the pile, making snowballs and tossing them at him as both hunters engaged in a wintry shoot-out.

**&**


	15. 18 Taco

** Disclaimer-Bot: I see you are all still alive and reading this. How good for you. It must be quite an addicting series, this Devil May Cry and its characters, to have such a fanatical following. I am positive that the owners of DMC, Capcom, are quite thrilled as well. **

**& **

**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 18 Taco **

**Word count: 792 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady **

**Title: Waiter, Can You Handle All That? **

**Rating: G **

**Warnings: None **

**& **

Cheesy mariachi music piped in from over their heads, but both of these particular restaurant patrons were happy that they weren't getting blasted by the live version that the restaurant usually featured on Friday nights. One of them was glad because of his supernatural hearing, and the other was happy because it meant she didn't have to put up with either loud and annoying music or a loud and complaining half-devil.

Digging into the salsa and corn chips that their waiter had bought, the white-haired half-devil found that the spicy concoction didn't bother him as much as he had feared it would. It had never bugged him as a child, but he wasn't a kid anymore, and his senses had all gotten stronger ever since the awakening of his devil powers atop Temen-ni-gru. Across from him, the brunette human woman with what appeared to be extreme heterochromia took a long sip of her iced tea, letting the cool liquid fill her mouth before she too picked up a chip and dipped it lightly into the spicy salsa.

Her dinner companion quirked a brow at her, a smirk growing on his smooth lips as he silently taunted her apparent hesitation to eat something spicy. In response, she flicked her blue and red eyes at a large splatter of salsa he'd managed to get on his black button-down shirt, tut-tutting with disapproval at his apparent lack of coordination. Their dinner battle was interrupted as the waiter returned, asking with a slight accent if everything was alright and if they were ready to order yet.

Slightly embarrassed, but not sure what for, the two glanced back down at the menus they had been given when seated, just to be sure they had the right choices ready. Glancing up, the woman saw both her half-devil companion and the waiter looking at her, the latter with his pad and pen out to take her order.

"I'll take the number four combo, no guacamole and no sour cream, though." At the waiter's nod, Lady folded her menu back up, preparing to wait out the length of her friend's order. The first time they'd gone out for something besides his usual pizza dinner, she'd discovered that being a half-devil meant being forced to eat more than was normal, in order to compensate for nutrients he couldn't get in the right quantities otherwise. She still wasn't sure she believed it, sometimes.

"You ready, buddy? Mine's a bigger order, tell the chef sorry. I'd like the carne asada platter with a chile relleno on the side, as well as the gazpacho, two enchiladas-one beef and one cheese, camarones del diablo, and an order of sopapillas as dessert. Oh, and the house's best Mexican beer."

The slightly flustered waiter picked up their menus and left, obviously trying to keep track of the hurried scrawl that Dante's order had transformed into on his notepad. Lady glared across at her dinner companion, thankful that the whole meal was going on his tab and not hers, as it was his turn to pay, but feeling distinctly sorry for the kitchen staff.

"You're an ass. You didn't seriously need all that food."

"Did too. Anyways, you didn't give him something easy either, what with cancelling half the good stuff."

"Guacamole is not the good stuff and I'm sensitive to sour cream." She knew he understood that, because she'd spent a long time explaining the difference between allergies and being sensitive to something to him once before.

"Whatever, babe. Isn't that combo just a bunch of tacos anyhow? That's pretty wimpy."

"I told you, I don't like spicy foods. I don't understand how you can, considering how sensitive you are to most other things. Are your taste buds dead?"

"Nope. I like to give 'em a good workout though."

"Right, that's exactly why you eat pizza every day of the week except Friday." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at him, especially as he grinned that wickedly honest smile at her. Something that conniving looking shouldn't earn her trust, but for some reason she always believed him when he had that grin twisting his lips.

It was probably some special devil trick, like being able to run up completely vertical surfaces without trying. At any rate, Dante was at least in a good mood tonight and they could enjoy their friendly meal for once, which was more than she could usually hope for on a Friday night. Usually he was antsy to get out of the restaurant before all the weekend-partiers got up to crazy stuff that sometimes led them into summoning something hellish, and while she couldn't blame him for his zealous attitude towards their work, it was annoying when all she wanted was a relaxing meal with the one person she could call a friend anymore.

**& **


	16. 74 Second

**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt #74 Second **

**Word Count: 114 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady, mentioned Sparda family. **

**Title: Sting like a Bee (Or a Lovebug) **

**Rating: G. Yeah, I wrote a G-rated ficlet. **

**Warnings: Actually, nothing for once. Just fluff, I guess, if that bothers ya.**

**Disclaimer-bot: I hereby disclaim any and all rights of Devil May Cry and its characters from the author's devious hands. The series and its inclusive content all belong to Capcom. **

&

He promised it would only hurt for a second, a tiny pin-prick of pain and it would be over. She could let heaven come for her then, he'd teased, unnatural blue eyes sparking at the comment.

Lady had agreed, too proud to back out or show her reluctance when she knew she was facing the inevitable. She just hadn't thought it would hurt this bad…and damn him for laughing at her, getting a needle in the arm hurt!

Why had she ever agreed to forge their wedding rings out of a crystallized mix of their own blood? She sniffed into his coat front, not wanting to cry in front of his family, not in this happy moment anyway.

&


	17. 24 Wine

**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 24 Wine **

**Word count: 1,102 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady, demons **

**Title: Cup of Life (Is a Bitter Drink) **

**Rating: PG-13 **

**Warnings: Some vampiric stuff that goes down, the usual violence, and some angst. Because I don't always write teh happeh. I did partially write this as an explanation for a mission I mention in passing in DevilCradle, but it is a standalone piece too. **

**& **

It looked like wine, but since they were running the gauntlet of a more than haunted house, it probably wasn't. The cup itself was enough to keep Lady a good number of steps back, covered as it was in bas-relief depicting dismemberment, scalping, flaying, burning, and other gruesome images of human suffering and torture. Dante, however, merely stared at the aged stone cup, snorting derisively at the less than subtle scare tactic. Hunters like him weren't scared of physical pain and human despair, even if it was administered by less than human hands. To hack it in his line of work, you had to have the stomach to choke down those kinds of images, because they were too often too real to be avoided.

The half-devil brazenly proceeded forward, ignoring the cup altogether. He wasn't bothered by the images, but he was bothered by the fluid brimming to the top of the vessel, and he wanted to get past it as quickly as possible. Demons' blood was one thing, but the scent of human blood and the knowledge that it had been spilled at a high cost no one should have to pay was purely sickening to the half-devil. Lady treaded lightly on his heels, doing her best to studiously ignore the cup just as her partner had, sure now from his reaction that it was indeed not filled with something so benign as wine.

As they rounded the edge of the square table upon which the morbid drinking vessel perched, Lady stumbled, head jerking down to glare at her errant feet, a shocked gasp escaping her. Red-booted feet were no longer visible for the rising surface of the not-solid floor, and the rest of her lower body was quickly disappearing below the previously wooden surface as well. Her partner spun at her initial sound, blue eyes wide as they watched her being pulled downward and away from him to Hell knew where. Desperate, he grabbed for her wrists, only to find that she too, like the floor, had become immaterial and couldn't be pulled back from her sinking fate.

"Dante…" The dark-haired woman's mismatched eyes widened in terror, heartbeat rising as she looked at her partner's helpless face drifting up and away from her. Ignoring the slice it took out of his hand, she watched him grasp her famed rocket launcher's bayonet, yanking hard enough to draw out the attached cable, which he tied around his wrist. He didn't say anything, but the steel resolve in his too-perfect features told her that he wasn't about to let her get taken away from him. She smiled grimly, glad of his determination, which lit her own.

"Dante…Dante…Dante!" This voice was far from human, like nails scratching on a chalkboard, yanking the mentioned devil hunter's head around sharply as his keen eyes sought out the source. To his disgust, the bas-relief on the cup had swirled into a scene of demons dominating and devouring their human prey, demons whose stone mouths echoed with his name. He realized with a disgruntled scowl that he could hear them chattering and chuckling away in his head, and that he had probably heard them there in the first place, which was always bad.

He could count the number of times shit like this had happened on his fingers, and none of the times had been particularly pleasant for the half-devil. _'No doubt, this one will be just as much fun as its predecessors,' _he grumbled to himself, feeling further vexed when the demons' voices only laughed more raucously.

"Drink…drink…drink…drink and join us…Dante…join us…Son of Sparda…" The blood in the cup eddied at their latest words, the cup itself seeming to loom over him, bent over as he was near Lady's still sinking form. He wanted to dig his heels in and be a rude, mule-headed guest about their invitation, but some twisting in his gut told him it was the only way to save his partner from slipping into her unknown doom. _'Bring it to me, and I'll think about it,'_ he snarled at the demons, knowing they would hear his angry thoughts. Obligingly, the cup careened off the tabletop, landing on the floor without spilling a sickly drop of it macabre drink, sliding over to his stooped form.

Lady had sunk low enough into the floor now to see the blood in the cup clearly, and she watched horror-struck as the half-devil holding onto her lifted the cup in one of his hands. Along its body she saw the demons he had seen first writhe in ecstasy, mouths chattering silently in utter glee as the cup they adorned was raised to pale pink lips. Lips that parted, mouth settling onto the rim firmly, sharp teeth peeping briefly as the lips once again closed tightly. A hand tipped up, the cup raising with it, viscous and darkly shining red fluid holding form, then breaking like a dam, forcing the lips to open wide, to avoid choking on the fast flow. A gurgle came from an openly working throat, crimson drips staining a jaw-line, finally the drink was gone, and a tongue flicked out to lap at messy cheeks.

Shoved abruptly up from the now solid floor, Lady missed her partner's self-loathing sneer, missed his throat swallow thickly, the chunk of bile and barely consumed blood being forced back down with disgust. She yanked her grapple off his arm, stalking away angrily, but stopping to round on him as she heard his booted feet follow after hers.

"Don't follow me, demon! You…You're no better than any of the others, you're a bloodthirsty monster like the rest!" She leveled her gun at his forehead, knowing it wouldn't kill him, but wanting the power of the hurtful, hateful threat it still was.

"If I'd thought you were gonna be an ungrateful bitch, I'd have let you sink through the floor!" He yelled back at her, blue-eyes snapping with suppressed pain and rage, not wanting to be blamed for a heritage that was out of his hands. Dante clenched his fists, murmuring silently, "Whatever. I'd rather be a devil than be responsible for losing someone I cared about."

Hearing his low admission, feeling some shame at her biased reaction, the other hunter holstered her gun, jerking her head to indicate he come along, murmuring herself, "I'd rather be dead than be responsible for making someone I cared about lose their humanity and their self." Whether Dante heard her or not, Lady never knew, but the two continued stoically on their hunt, and the incident was not one that either soon easily forgot.

&


	18. 2 Couple

**& **

**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt #02 Couple **

**Word count: 669 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady, Sparda, Eva, Vergil. **

**Title: Not a Drunken Fumble (To be Screwing Around in Bars) **

**Rating: PG-13 **

**Warnings: Weeeeell, it is technically true that sex is mentioned here, but it's nothing graphic. Vergil and Sparda didn't seem to want to elaborate on what they heard. Other than that, nothing that I can think of, although I did use a Jimmy Buffet song to muse this. It was great fun, could actually see the two of them doing something this goofy – well, Dante anyways, he's a natural goof and perv. Prompt chosen because they're a couple and they're 'coupling', no other reasons, 'cept for our canon couple's cameo. **

**& **

"They've been in there for far too long. How long can it take to clear out a bar of a few Beezelbubs?"

Eva was obviously biting her nails with impatience and a little bit of fury, at how slow her younger son and his wife were being at their task. Sparda and her older son, Vergil, exchanged a rather long-suffering glance, not really wanting to ponder the reason why the pair was late but nonetheless feeling her frustration themselves. As the trio stood outside in the bar's abandoned parking lot, they began to hear sounds filtering out of the entryway.

The golden-haired huntress looked ready to jump into the fray, blue eyes lit with the excitement of starting a demon smack-down with her happy family, but Sparda's hand barred her hurried entry. Clearly, her husband thought it still was a bit risky to go barging inside, although she really didn't see the issue, since Dante and Lady were obviously already inside. She wanted to tempt him with the idea that the two of them had gotten all the fun themselves, but a glance at his too-perfect face told her that wouldn't work today. She sighed, knowing he was right about the need to be cautious, but it didn't make the waiting any more bearable.

Vergil stalked up silently beside his parents, blue eyes boring into the bar's front, willing his goofball younger twin to hurry up and get out, or at least give some kind of all clear signal. It wasn't the bar they were here for anyway – it was the bootleg liquor smuggling tunnels underneath the aging structure. According to the local hunters, the place had been abandoned and it didn't take long for demons to make use of the highly networked tunnels under it.

As the three continued to stand outside, only one with half his patience remaining, they realized that the noises they had heard were stomping. Sparda breathed out, smiling at his more impatient family members gently, before his face tightened with consternation upon realizing that the stomping had ended with a rather hefty kick. Music could now be heard wafting out of the bar, presumably from a jukebox, an old twangy tune that set Vergil's teeth on edge.

"For the love of…why is he starting a jukebox in there? Why is he playing that song?!"

"It's not a bad, song, dear, just a tad raunchy. Your brother probably just thinks it's a fun way to let us know it's clear." Eva tried to be chipper about the turn of events, but even she couldn't hide her mounting concern. Dante and jukeboxes usually meant there was something else going on besides casual listening.

Sparda opened his mouth to comment, but snapped it shut with an almost audible click at the next sounds that wafted out to his and Vergil's more than human ears over the warbly vocals asking, _'why don't we get drunk and screw'_. There was feminine snort, accentuated by a light slap afterwards, before the clunk of a rather heavy metal object. Following this was a loud crash, a few smaller clunks which were probably dropped guns, and finally the crème de la crème, several fleshy impacts that were hardly violent, punctuated by pleasured snarls and groans.

Eva took one look at her boys' tightly closed and still disgusted faces then snorted good-humoredly, "Well, at least they're having fun in there."

Sparda opened his eyes to give his wife a look of pained endurance, sighing heavily, "Yes, that is true milady. I just wish our son and his wife would be more prudent about where they decided to 'have fun'."

Eva grinned at him, her look clearly saying she knew who it came from, which elicited a slight blush from the legendary Dark Knight. There were just some parts of your early married life that were better left as private memories, he decided, watching his younger son, Dante, come swaggering out of the bar with Lady trying not to look embarrassed at his heels.

&


	19. 51 Water

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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 51 Water **

**Word count: 318 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady **

**Title: Water of Life **

**Rating: G **

**Warnings: It's a bit vague in tying in with the theme, but the Devil Arm Exquisia is water-based.**

**Disclaimer-bot: The author is glad just to be able to update and have internet access again, so she presents to you this ficlet. The rights to DMC and its inclusive characters belong to Capcom, however. **

**& **

He gave it to her out of the blue one day, boxed in velvet and rosewood. It looked like a delicate piece, the gold chain it hung suspended from a fine snake-skin weave. But flipping over the charm itself showed her it was certainly anything but delicate and fragile. The purple, cream, and black speckled scallop shell glistened with a dull sheen, but she could tell it was no usual lacquer.

She'd not asked him about it right away, clasping the necklace closed around her neck and letting the seashell dangle down to the column of her throat. It wasn't lightweight, and it clashed horribly with her normal teardrop choker, but she figured she could at least humor him for a little while and wear the trinket, turning to thank him. She gasped as the bullet fired at her, so close that point blank would have been farther away, and she knew there was no time to dodge or deflect, only a half-second's shocked heartbreak at the unexpected attack.

A ping sounded and nothing hurt, instead of the dull thud and pained impact she had been expecting, and she opened her mismatched eyes. Lady lurched backward, the office tinted in a dark and liquid purple, eyes tracking the wavering white line circling around a body-sized purple droplet, leaving her feeling like a bubble-girl. Dante stood across from her, holstering Ebony and smiling contentedly at her ensconced state, prancing over to her with a bounce in his step.

"So, babe, how do you like Exquisia? I thought she was the perfect Devil Arm for such an exquisite example of deadly beauty."

"Leave it to you to be corny and sweet at the same time, Dante. …Thank you. She's perfect."

He beamed and she kissed his radiant smile with her own sunny one, the watery barrier falling away without a threat present to its new mistress.


	20. 87 Queen

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**Word Count: 866**

**Prompt: #87 Queen**

**Characters: Dante, Lady, some random J-named dude (you'll see)**

**Title: Oh Girlfriend, You are Way Too Good for Him!**

**Rating: PG**

**Warnings: Potty-mouthed hunters make my life difficult by adding warnings to fan-ficlets. Nothing besides that for once.**

**Author's Notes: Um, well, crack. Dante makes a good sob-sister, though. I want him and the chocolate next time I have a breakup. DMC belongs to Capcom, by the way, as a general disclaimer.**

**&**

"It's over. We're over, Dante." Sometimes, times like right now, the half-devil demon hunter wished he could shoot himself in the head and end it all. He couldn't, and he was fielding a very important phone call right now, so he tsk'd sympathetically into the old corded device's mouthpiece and muttered about it being 'too bad'. Really, a devil hunter reduced to girl talk…over some macho punk who wouldn't know what hit him later when his circuit breaker got fried.

"It was awful, just so awful. I couldn't imagine it happening, and I was so upset…I think I threw the whole vase of lilies at him. I hate lilies."

The woman on the other end of the phone line sobbed, obviously distraught over something, and probably not the lilies, if her vehement declaration about hating them was any indication. _'Note to self, never send lilies to her…not that I would send her flowers or anything, no reason to do that,'_ the half-devil still quietly stored away that information, some part of him cherishing the fact that he knew better than to send her flowers. She was a chocolates girl, liked Godiva's and these nice ones from Brussels he'd picked up once on a hunting trip. And a guns girl, but that was a whole different ball game.

Speaking of which, he'd better get back to the consoling role of chick-friend he was playing here, or else she might just shoot the phone in a teary rage. "So what happened? Did he say something awful? You can talk to me, b..a…." He bit the end off of that sentence, choking down his habitual name for her, knowing it was wrong right now.

She sobbed again, and he vowed to really trash the guy's apartment later on, seething with rage at the way his normally strong friend was reduced to a sniveling little girl over this worthless piece of shit. In Dante's opinion, the guy had been shit to begin with, not worthy of a queen like her, but he'd let it go with only a little grousing when she wanted to date the jerk. Now the dumb-ass was dead meat and the half-devil wasn't sorry to see him gone from his friend's life. _'There are way better dudes out there for a lady like her to date, way better 'n' this Joey or Josh or Jehosaphat or whatever.'_ He resisted the urge to snort and to puff out his chest, which he couldn't explain for the life of him. He was being sympathetic here, really.

"He…well, I told him I was a PI, and he was okay with that, but then, I told him it was bounty hunting too and he…" She sniffed, and he cooed soothingly, mumbling about how it wasn't as bad as she thought it was, how he'd probably just overreacted, but a quiet part of him cheered happily that the guy was too wimpy for a fighting queen like her. Her sniffles abated somewhat for the time, as she continued with her sad tale of separation, "He totally flipped out! He told me I should quit playing in a man's job and he called…he, no, that…that bastard called me a dyke!"

She was pissed too, he could tell now, and he wondered if any of the flower-vase had cut the guy up when she threw it earlier. She had pretty good aim when she needed it, he knew from experience. He resisted the urge to snigger at the idea of Jacob or Jamie or whoever, moaning to some grouchy old nurse about mean girlfriends and breakups, instead gasping indignantly at the name-calling. Actually, he was pretty pissed about that too, since she was no butch and mentally amended his list of horrid things to do at the lout's apartment later on to include planting gay porno. _'Guy's got to be not straight to call the babe a dyke. She's the sexiest thing I've ever clapped 'em on, and I have seen a lot of sexy.'_ She was crying again, but the sniffles this time were less weepy and more angry, so he figured it was okay to go on the offended friend front now.

"Then he totally wasn't worth your time. He's an ass, so good riddance to him, and don't you feel bad about any of it. You're a queen and you're way too good for him."

"Oh my God, that's right. I can't believe I've been crying over him, the jerk. I'm so over him."

"But you could use a carton of Death by Chocolate ice cream, right?" He hoped she could, it was his favorite part about being her boyfriend counselor and her girlfriend sob-shoulder after the breakups. Well, aside from trashing the dumb guys' houses, because nobody hurt his Lady and got away with it.

"Do you have some? That would be amazing, unless I'd be bothering you."

"No, no, it's not a bother. Come over to the office and we'll eat ice cream to spite his lousy ass." Dante giggled insanely after she thanked him and hung up with the promise to be there in fifteen minutes. World was a screwed up place, where he was playing dating advisor to the girl he had a crush on.

**&**


	21. 38 Seed, 40 Root

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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 38 Seed and # 40 Root **

**Word count: 723 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady **

**Title: Stranglehold (Death of Devil's Rose) **

**Rating: PG-13 **

**Warnings: Like 'Cup of Life', this one is a bit darker than the rest, but I've been thinking a lot about this idea…it's got some possibility to it, besides being fun torment for my favourite pair. Character death, angst, violence as usual. If you don't understand what's going on here, please feel free to PM me and I'll explain, but it's pretty clear, I think.**

**Disclaimer-bot: I am here once again to disclaim that all rights to Devil May Cry and Lady and Dante belong to Capcom, and that the author chick is merely borrowing them for her cruel musings. **

**& **

It had always been there, this bad seed deep inside. Like the one before her, who she couldn't deny she branched off from, she had a seed of darkness, a demon lying in wait. Laying dormant, waiting out the freezing winter of her life, waiting for the spring thaw to come and let it grow, take root. She'd known this, she had, really, and still…still she'd let him thaw her out. It had taken time, and it took time for a seed to grow, and she really had tried to stop it from putting down roots deep enough, but…she sighed. The breath rattled out dryly, like dead leaves in fall and some part of her was still alive enough to be amused by that. But the rest of her was dead, dead, dead, and she was just a shell, just a dried up husk now that the seed had no real use for her.

Evil was like that, she guessed, demonic evil that laid dormant in its host and fed quietly, growing in shadow until it was too hungry to simply subsist on the scraps her hunting had been for it, the kills she made of other demons its nourishment no longer enough. It wanted more, wanted to be the killer, not the patient Venus fly trap that slowly took what it got by sitting around…it was more like something out of Little Shop of Horrors now. It fed itself that one time, and then she knew she couldn't control it, couldn't do anything to stop it, and she'd simply gone home to sit. Sit and wait, that was all she could do, wait for the aura she couldn't control to attract him like a bee to honey. Hopefully he would sting like a bee too, know it was her and end it quickly and quietly. She didn't want to fight him, even now, even lost and dried up as she was, choking in the stranglehold of the vines her demon held around her neck.

The waiting seemed like forever, but it wasn't, it couldn't have been, because he was good about nipping things like her in the bud. He hadn't done what she'd hoped he would, but then, the windows of her apartment had long since darkened under her demon's power and…and maybe he just wanted to see her, wanted to be sure. But that was stupid, because who else could it be in her apartment, who else could be what she was now and he surely knew no demon could have killed her and moved in…this was less hostile than that, this was an almost natural invasion, right down to her cells. Still, he came in the front door, banging it open loudly and stylishly like he did everything, swaggering across the room to her. She couldn't move, wouldn't move, because moving meant fighting and she couldn't do that even as lost as she was, gone as she was, a part of her that was still left was still in love with him and was glad he'd thawed out her icy frost even if it had brought them to this.

"Babe, how's it…hanging in the jungle?" His blue eyes slide around her apartment, taking in the new foliage and the other manifestations of her demon, frown deepening when she didn't respond.

"Guess you can't hear me through all this crap. Shame," He started to make another cocky comment but it died on his lips when his eyes rested on her shell, rested on her and knew that she was almost completely withered away under what her demon had made of her body. His white gun came out, red light charging it, and she sighed, relieved that it was he who would end this, he who would understand that she had done what she could and who would understand that fighting your demon wasn't easy. She was so relieved, she was, and she wanted to smile at him, wanted to say something, but she all she could do was hold his gaze and close her eyes peacefully, hearing the bang and feeling the hot pain of his own devilish strength tearing her apart, his voice thick with the tears she couldn't see, "I'm sorry, Lady, babe. I'll end it for you," before there was nothing but rest in her garden of roses.


	22. 14 White

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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 14 White **

**Word Count: 533 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady, Trish **

**Title: Cute Suit, Babe (Now Take it Off) **

**Rating: PG-13 **

**Warnings: Dante's being a pervert, letting the remnants of his teenage fantasies get the best of him, so expect some mild references to hot chicks and their bodies. Other than that, and one swear word, nothing much. Crack, I guess, but you can blame this totally on the DMC4 cutscene with these three.**

**Disclaimer-bot: Indeed, this can only be the fault of Capcom, for finally releasing Devil May Cry 4 and restarting the author chick's creative juices. It must be said, however, that it is still good thing that Capcom owns Dante, Lady, Trish, and all of Devil May Cry, or else the world would probably be a less sane place. **

**& **

She was wearing some new number when she came breezing into his shop, and he had half a moment's fear that she'd charged it to his name again, like the last time she and Trish had both been by together. The blonde was seated on the corner of his desk, and while he was glad she had nodded in friendly acknowledgement of their fellow hunter's arrival instead of trying to shoot or lightning blast her, he couldn't help but notice she was wearing a new top too. That half a moment's fear built up, and then sunk into his gut, where it writhed unpleasantly and threatened to make good pizza go to waste when he realized they were both in something new besides both being here. Not good. Totally not good.

But then…maybe it was good, the part of him that was still seventeen and sexy-happy thought, taking a swift second glance. He didn't want to stare – his mother had taught him better for one thing, and for another, he really didn't feel like getting shot today. But a guy could look, yeah, and he could do it so fast, they'd never know, so it was all fair. The second look told him Trish's top was really low, and if she didn't have his mother's face, he'd probably have been interested in a very subtle third glance at her top…her, he meant her, blast it. It also told him that Lady's little new number was white, and tight, and good grief, she wasn't wearing anything underneath!

He wanted to giggle at his wit, wanted to but instead he just tore off a bite of pizza, the teenager in him still doing the sexy-women-surrounding-me dance and waving his imaginary arms frantically, trying to divert his older self's attention back to the only thing more tasty than a slice of pizza pie. Sighing, the half-devil listened in halfway, keeping his other ear on what was coming out of Lady's mouth, and as soon as he did, he was glad he'd already dedicated that half of his focus to being a good boy, because teenage him was being very bad. Very, very bad.

Apparently, what warranted his attention was that the white pinstripe suit was definitely no suit at all, because last he'd checked, suits did not come with Daisy Dukes. Damn the woman for wearing them, he wanted to think, but he just couldn't do it, not when she was facing away from him and her butt was waggling around as she walked and talked – hell if he knew what she was saying now, he'd have to resort to 'uh-huh' and 'yeah, sure' for responses – and then turned to face him again, which was a whole new kind of good badness. Good because her butt wasn't the only thing bouncing in his vision now, bad because she was leaned over his desk and he couldn't gawk at all with her eyes locked on him like the scopes on a missile launcher.

Damn. Damn it all. He needed to work with less women. And he needed to tell them there was a dress code around here, a dress code that excluded tight tube tops and little white suits.


	23. 12 Red

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**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 12 Red **

**Word Count: 176 **

**Characters: Dante, Lady **

**Title: Borrow Your Top (To Put on My Top) **

**Rating: PG-13, swearing, innuendo **

**Warnings: Crackfic! Again, yes, despite all reason and rhyme. But it's funny, although this time you may blame the Youtubers and their parody videos of DMC3. How was I supposed to resist a Dante and Lady one about borrowing tops?**

**Disclaimer-bot: In the vein of things very serious and not on crack, the author chick has me here once again to disclaim that all rights to Devil May Cry, Dante, and Lady belong to Capcom. **

**& **

She had on black hot-pants with red racing stripes on the sides. And a black bra. But no top. Her top just didn't work with the pants.

Lady frowned at her reflected face in the mirror's foggy surface. She frowned more when the door shuddered ominously under a mighty thud from the outside.

"Lady, get out of there! When a man's gotta piss, he's gotta piss!"

"Shut-up! I don't have a shirt you ass!"

"You're topless? Whoo-hoo! I'll help you fix that if you let me take a leak!"

"No!"

She was totally going to shoot his demon ass and hope he pissed himself. As soon as she got a top, anyway…she shot her head around the cracked bathroom door.

"Dante! Give me your top! Now!"

It was red. It worked nicely, even if she had to roll the sleeves up to her shoulders like a work-out tank and tuck in the bottom three inches. She let him take his damn leak, and forgot about splattering his red and gray matter on the walls, for a little while.


	24. 1 OTP

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**DMC OTP100**

**Prompt # 1 OTP (Yes, really)**

**Word Count: 1,623 (long but it's mostly dialogue)**

**Characters: Dante, Lady, Trish, Nero, Kyrie**

**Title: Yes, Dear (I Swear It's Not Like That)**

**Rating: PG-13, because Nero and Dante have toilet mouths and their minds are in the gutter.**

**Warnings: SPOILERS. Crack!fic. You can blame DMC4 and Nero and Kyrie again, because so help me, I am a chick and I do like cute fluffy scenes every once in a while. The teasing dynamic between Dante and Nero was too much to ignore after I watched a few cutscenes, and I just couldn't help but ponder what our devil hunter thought of the young romantics…or what they would think of his hypothetical love life. Thus, the crack was born.**

**&**

Not too long after he'd gotten back from Fortuna, Dante had come back from a job to see his office door kicked in and wide open. Scratch that, it was kicked off and completely gone, which would have been okay if he had done it. But he hadn't and so it kinda ticked him off, and he stomped inside moodily, ready to bite someone's head off for wrecking his shop Metaphorically speaking, of course.

"Yo, old man, how's kicks? I know I got mine already."

"You punk. You wrecked my shop and have the balls to say it was for kicks? Damn if I shouldn't blow your head off."

"Nero! I told you not to knock the door down. Apologize, please."

"What? Kyrie, no, apologies are for wussies. …He doesn't mind anyway."

"Apologize, Nero."

"Yeah, kid, apologize. Or I'll beat it out of you."

"Shut-up, you gap-mouthed old gieser."

Nobody had moved, except for Kyrie, who had shot up from the client couch at Dante's arrival and was wringing her hands unhappily, but still sternly staring down the defiant Nero, determined to make him play nicely. It was funny, and Dante had to suppress his snigger, because he could just see the younger demon slayer cracking under his girlfriend's disapproval, and all he could think of was what a riot it was to see the little chick put the tough guy back on the seat of his pants. Damn if they didn't make him think of his mother and Pops, big demon put in place and toeing the line of a little human. Cute, sickeningly cute, and he really wanted to laugh his ass off, but he wanted to see the punk break first.

"Damn. Fine. I…I'm totally not sorry I ticked you off, just sorry I had to 'fess up to the property damage."

"Nero! That doesn't count!"

"Aw, cut me some slack, Kyrie. I'll take you out to eat someplace nice if you let it go, I promise."

"That trendy little café around the corner?"

"Bad idea, little miss songbird. That café is the junk. There's a much better bistro up on Duquesne and Forbes, they have great seating for two."

Right off, he knew he shouldn't have said that, because the pair of barely teenagers gaped at him, and then the brat was up and running with it, taunting like no tomorrow. Where was that respect for your elders and betters thing, Dante wondered to himself, jabbing Rebellion point first into the wooden floorboards and leaning on it. His face was impassive, but he was pretty sure it'd go to annoyance soon enough, because now the girl looked ready to jump on his slip of the tongue. And he didn't pick fights with chicks. Well, the one or two, but they didn't count and each time had been for a good reason, so doubly not counted.

"Whoa, the old fart can pick up chicks? Geeze, you must be popping some crazy pills to get that going for you."

"I'm sure you'd know more about popping pills than I, or at least I hope you do, because I wouldn't want the two of you reproducing anytime soon. World's got enough with me in it, doesn't need you, and sure as hell doesn't need your spawn."

"They wouldn't be Spawn, they'd be Venom, and they'd kick your ass out just like I would if Kyrie would let me."

"Ha, ha, ha! Pussy-whipped already, kid? You know they say you lose your touch if you let a chick control you, have your spine shrivel up. Guess you should get out of the field while your pants are still dry."

"I'm not the one scared of his daddy."

"You'll be calling me daddy before we're done with this heart-to-heart, punk."

"No thanks, I don't want to join the ranks of your illegitimate horde from whores."

"Do you have children, Mr. Dante? Nero's right, you are kind of older."

Right on cue, and trust a chick to wham him worse than some dude with a bulked up sense of superiority and a super-human body. Or should that be super-demon? He couldn't be sure, but it seemed like the kid had gotten only a little bit more demonic in the few months he hadn't seen him. Still, that was a pretty massive growth rate, considering how he'd been starting out, and dimly the hunter wondered if this wasn't just a completely pointless and annoying social call. If it wasn't he wished they could get down to business and ignore his personal life, because he was a busy man. He did run a business, so he was busy. Really busy, too busy for silly questions about silly stuff, that he refused to answer. He answered, pissed at himself for having that demon honesty thing and a soft spot for chicks.

"I don't have kids."

"No kids? Not even illegitimate ones that might one day pop up and bring hell to your doorstep? Could have fooled me, old man."

"But…but what about that blonde woman? She wasn't your girlfriend?"

Aw, hell, why couldn't they just leave him alone? He tossed Rebellion onto its pegs, picked Nero out of his chair and sat his own keister in it grumpily. The punk wriggled out of his loose hold, dropping cat-like to the floor on his own two feet and snorting derisively at the dislodging. The girl hurried over to grasp her boyfriend's arm, the inhuman one, hoping to forestall any fighting and doing it admirably well without even using a weapon. The devil hunter wished the chicks he knew did that more often, especially the one that liked to shoot him in the head. It's not like he was out to piss her off, just bug her a little and get her to scrunch her nose exactly the way she did it.

"Trish is so not my girlfriend. See that photo? Remember Trish? Yeah, that's not her. That's my mother. See resemblance? See me not having Oedipal complex? Good."

"Your mom's a hot chick?"

Dante was ninety-nine percent certain that was a brain-blip and not the kid channeling any Sparda remnants. He glared anyway, turning his treasured photo away from the two annoying kids testily. He was this close to telling them to haul ass out of his shop and go feed themselves at the shitty café or the bistro he'd kindly mentioned to their ungrateful selves, when the girl just had to open her mouth and ask nicely again.

"If she's not your girlfriend, then do you have a girlfriend? Or a wife? I hope your wife is tough, I can't stand watching Nero slay demons."

"His wife would have to be tough, considering she'd be wearing the pants in the partnership. Guy's got no balls of his own, probably borrows hers. Or his."

"I'm straighter than all the poles in Central Park, kid. And I don't have a wife, not a dainty one, not a ballsy one. No wife. No kids. Me. My sword. My guns. My job. My office. Which you wrecked."

"…That's so sad."

Yeah, it is, Dante thought glumly, before his brain registered what had been said and his mind lit up with neon red 'say what's?!' all over the place. Oh, hell, no, she was not pitying him. He hated that, hated dealing with chicks who did the soft and emotional thing, because he was not cut out to deal with that. Only chick he liked didn't like mushy stuff as much as he didn't, and that was the way he wanted it. Needed it, because he couldn't have people using her against him, and she couldn't afford to look weak.

"No, that's a good thing, Kyrie. It means he won't reproduce and fill the world with his spawn."

"My Spidermen, you mean, the ones that'll kick your Venoms' tails," he paused, seeing two figures approach from the side of the ruined doorway and wanting to kick himself hard for forgetting, "Look, amscram, won't you? I've got work to do."

Too late, though, because the kid had seen them too, and the girl had turned to follow his gaze, and as soon as the chicks saw each other the devil hunter knew there would be mayhem. Kyrie waved happily at Trish, and the blond smiled back with a nonchalant shrug, shooting him the smirk that told him she was watching a great evil unfold and enjoying it. Damn that woman. And damn the other one for introducing herself and getting chummy with the little singing chick already. At least the kid would suffer with him.

"Holy God, she's a hot chick too! What the hell do you pop, old man, picking up chicks like these?"

"Eyes off the goods, kid, or trust me, they'll blow them off for you. Especially Lady."

"Lady? That's her name? Hell of a name for a woman dressed like that…those boots could make a man lick them."

"Don't I know it."

Damn. He'd gone and opened his mouth without thinking again, and now they were all staring at him, or glaring in one case. Days like these, he wished he didn't have partners, of any kind; not business, not casual, and certainly not pleasure. And he wished he could shoot the kid for opening his mouth and reminding him once again that he did indeed date a hot chick. A hot chick whose boots he would undoubtedly be licking later, though if he got to lick her creamy thighs and then a littler higher also he wasn't going to gripe too much. He hated his life. Really, really hated it and he really hated how much it hated him back, giving him such demanding company.


	25. 76 Death

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**DMC OTP100**

**Prompt # 76 Death**

**Word count: 2,446 (erk!)**

**Characters: Dante, Lady, minor bit players**

**Title: Side of the Veil**

**Rating: G**

**Warnings: Well, I wanted to do something that was just a mission, nothing big, and nothing overdone with fluff or romance or any side genre, just a mission and our duo. Length, obviously, and the sweet edge this has. It is totally worth it though.**

**I might move this to another fic collection if people are receptive to the idea. I really like doing little hunt pieces, not about major things, but about the day to day humdrum of being hunters, and I would be looking into doing it for Sparda, Eva, Vergil, and any characters in any combination really, and would be willing to look into setting hunts on all sorts of supernatural phenomenon and genre, especially if people suggested it. I think it's a bang-up idea and I may just do a few pieces anyway. This was almost a SxE one, because I felt it suited them too, suited their giving natures.**

**Disclaimer-bot: To be brief, she does not own Devil May Cry, Lady, or Dante. Capcom does. **

**&**

Pro bono wasn't something she and Dante advertised as doing at all, but they had both done it more than willingly in the past, and they still did it when the situation arose. Being a hunter meant being out there to do the job, to hunt demons and to protect humans, not looking for the paycheck. Even with mouths to feed, it wasn't like they couldn't afford to work free for the needy, not with his father alive and more than willing to cover bills when they couldn't. Not that they would ever have asked, both a little too proud for that.

Pro bono for them meant being pro life, meant truly being interested in doing the job they swore to do. It meant lending a hand and cleaning up where otherwise no one would have paid attention and it meant greater gratitude than just stacks of bills in briefcases. Saving people who had something to save was appreciated, but it was always those who had the least who gave the most in return for the selfless work, even if it was just repeatedly mumbled thanks and sighs of relief, like this elderly woman.

Her name was June, and she was stubbornly living in her old, creaking wood, fading paint settlement house, the one with just a single bath and two bedrooms, where she and her late husband had raised five kids. The kids were all grown now and living in upstate New York and New Hampshire, living in cookie-cutter suburbia homes and trendy apartments. Her youngest son was closest, and it was he who had made the call, had dialed in 888 – 348 – 6837. Their youngest had snatched the phone up excitedly, even though he was not supposed to answer that line, and the young man had almost hung up in frustrated confusion before Dante had rescued the call.

His mother's house was haunted, the young man said, there was something living there besides her, and he was afraid it would hurt her, even if it wasn't malevolent and he didn't really believe in ghosts. He just worried that she would be frightened of it, even if it was just a large squirrel or something and that she would stumble in shock and fall and get hurt. It was pretty clear that he was genuinely frightened of something he couldn't explain and sound like he was rational, and it was more clear that he wanted to protect his mother, even if he wasn't too sure about the authenticity of these 'handymen'.

But he hadn't been able to stay the night and keep an eye on her and he hadn't been able to arrange payment either – he could wire them money, no matter the job cost, he said, begging tone just under his attempt at adult control of a situation he felt his mother shouldn't handle. She was old he said, and could they please just come by and look into it, even if she wasn't going to pay? Of course, her husband had said, arranging to arrive at eight and dropping the phone to its antique cradle before chasing after their own son half-reprimanding and half-teasing. He was never good at discipline, she knew, but at least he was disciplined enough to write down the contact information.

They were there by quarter 'til eight and she patted his broad shoulder as she slipped out from behind him on the single motorcycle they had taken – she knew what mothers meant to him, because they meant the same to her. Her own sons were already like that too, but then, they were still at that age where mommy and daddy were the world and were the 'coolest and bestest people ever'.

The old woman, June, was a tiny grey-haired and chain-spectacled wisp, who looked like she was frail and afraid, but who had obviously had her own share of life's joys and burdens and become strong for it, because she met them at the aging screen door and smiled warmly; Old-fashioned kindness to guests mixed with confidence in their ability to treat her nicely as well. She would have none of them standing around or just passing in to do their work and Dante's genuine, big-hearted laugh at her already set out offer of warm tea made her smile brighten from light copper to sunny gold, ho-ho-ing herself gently when he explained it made him think of his Pops. Such a nice young man, she complimented, and was the sweet, quiet lady his wife? Lady had murmured that she was, although she had those days she wished she wasn't, which had the old woman laughing with a little more mirth, old memories in her eyes.

She really didn't think there was anything in the house, she said quite suddenly, face falling and they knew it was probably because she was afraid not of what might be in her house, but of losing what had been in it, and what it meant to her to stay in it. When her husband had passed, she admitted, a retired minister, the house had seemed a little less bright, but things had cheered up since then, she remarked and jokingly added that it was probably because she didn't have to nag him and get in a foul mood anymore. Lady had chuckled at that, knowing all about nagging husbands herself, but glad that she hadn't had to nag him to do this. She never had to nag him to work, because he loved their job, but she did have to get on his tail about being a sterner father and setting an adult example. He was just a big, soft-hearted kid, a laid-back person who only wanted to enjoy life and love his family, and she loved him for it, loved that he was like that even with who and what he was.

He had politely declined the tea, however, bowing out with manners she knew his mother had taught him over long hours and said he would like to just look around the place. Lady had taken the hint and asked if June would chat with her for just a bit over the tea, she was thirsty and grateful for the offer, and true to by-gone manners the old woman had settled down with the younger woman and told the young man he could go anywhere he pleased, just not the cellar. The steps were bad, she explained, and the bulb had gone out rather unexpectedly and she couldn't replace it on her own. Dante agreed with thanks, striding out on his long legs into the kitchen and then his red-coated back disappeared around the corner into the washing room.

The two women chuckled after his departure, June murmuring that men just didn't know how to sit down and enjoy five minutes of peace and quiet, and Lady agreeing that her husband was always on the go. But, she admitted, it meant she could have five minutes of peace and quiet, without her boys clamoring for her to play games and read stories she had already done seven times with them.

"Boys?" June had asked in the quiet tone of marveling interest that the old took in the young, "If they're anything like mine were, I'm sure they're a handful, but a precious one."

"They are. They're twins, so identical you can't tell them apart unless you dress them apart, and a little wild, but they're just too curious and enthusiastic to be annoying."

"Oh, twins are just darling, although it's true what they say about double trouble. Is it from your family or his?"

"His. He has a twin brother, and his father had a twin, but they haven't seen each other in years." Millenia, really, but she wasn't going to add that in with just anyone, and that wasn't the important part. They were all going to live long, or in the case of her mother-in-law and herself, live, die, and be resurrected, but they were going to stick around as family for a long time.

"Family is so important, it must have been hard to be separated from his twin for so long. It's hard when we lose those important to us."

"It is." And she knew that, knew because she had lost her family once before and almost lost this one, almost never seen her sons. It shouldn't have been a complicated birth, but it had been, and they would have lost their boys if they weren't who they were and their family wasn't what it was. It was hard to remember seeing their tiny forms lying breathless in the delivery room bassinet, and hard to breathe when the doctors had left for a family moment of peace and mourning and his father could set life to thrumming in their little bodies again. Next time, next time she promised that her husband and she would not go through that, and that she would do whatever it took to bring their children into the world alive.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" He was back, having made the circuit of the tiny weathered and worn house, Velveteen rabbit-like in its use and used up beauty.

"Oh, no dear, we were just discussing family, just little memories and sweet things."

"You're right, your father would like June, and your mother would too." It was her way of saying that this person knew what all of their family did, of saying it would be worth it to work this pro bono, even though they had already decided that.

"There really wasn't anything in this quiet old place, was there?" The old woman didn't look worried, but something in her tone couldn't quite be hidden and Lady flicked her eyes to Dante in askance, not knowing if he had found anything.

"Not up here. But may I check the cellar? I won't fall, I'm used to this sort of thing, and there probably is nothing, but I want to be thorough, ma'am."

"Well, I suppose, but please be careful, I don't want anyone to get hurt or have an accident."

"I won't. I'll replace the bulb if you'd like, too."

"Oh, dear, no, I couldn't ask…"

"Don't worry, it's not a problem."

When he had gone again, directed to the pantry door where June kept her household repair items and a few other household necessities, Lady had comforted the old woman gently. It was one thing to sooth away fears of the unknown, but to sooth away mundane frets over civility and someone else's well-being was just as important.

"Don't worry, my husband is a professional. He does our job well, just as well as he does anything else, even if it's not asked of him."

"It's so very kind of him to do that for me, and I can't even pay you, or at least my son says I can't. I can, I have some money in the lockbox…"

"No, ma'am, we won't need payment. We do our job because it's important to us, because we value it for the reward it gives people, for the comfort, not for anything else."

They wouldn't have asked for pay even if she could have given it, not now, and Lady certainly would not have asked after the next minute. All the lights flickered, and somehow, she knew he had known, knew he had been stalling because he hadn't wanted this to happen, hadn't wanted an old mother to have to experience something so quietly disturbing. After the lights flickered, there was a slight hum in the air, a charge that Lady could barely feel with the small amount of demon blood in her ancestry, and she knew all June could feel was the unexplained terror that the unknown sent up into humans. She hugged the older woman, who was trembling just slightly, calming her and saying it was just a circuit breaker reacting, and he would have the house back to normal in a jiffy.

He did, and she did not need to know what it was that had been down there, because if she could barely sense it and was getting the tingle of trepidation herself, then that meant it was something she couldn't have handled. Demons weren't all they took on, but most hunters could do nothing against the other unknowns wandering around, and she was grateful that he could. It meant they could help out just a little more, meant they could ease a few more minds and lives, with or without pay as a reward. The dead didn't mean it, but sometimes they grated on the living, sometimes they just didn't get along with them and just caused a little too much discomfort to let go.

June thanked them as they left, standing behind her screen door, and they had told her that she was fine, and if she ever needed anything she could call them. Her smile was golden and genuine as they settled back on their shared motorbike and rode off, and she settled back in to her house grateful, feeling it was brighter than even when her husband had been alive and safe enough to sleep in her bed once again. She would call her son in the morning, and make him be as proper as that young couple and pay them for their work, even for the lightbulb replacement, because if you didn't thank people then you didn't let them know you thought they were important, and you had to let them know that before it was too late and death parted your paths.

"What was it?" She asked him much later, as they laid in their bed, half-asleep and half-listening to their sons settle down to slumber-land across the hall.

"What you thought it was." He grinned just slightly, leaning over to kiss her temple and laying back with a mildly teasing grin.

"I'm glad you took care of it then, although I hope it was just putting on a light show."

"Putting out a light show, you mean? Hm, yeah, it was. It didn't mean any harm, but it was terrified of me, at least until I set it straight about how it needed to get a move on home."

"Well, if I was a ghost, seeing a shepherd of hell, even just half and soft-hearted, wouldn't make me very comfortable."

He laughed, laughed that big-hearted, happy laugh she loved and she chuckled with him, hugging his wide frame and loving the feel of family and success they shared. Death was life's biggest trial, but it wasn't so bad when you had someone else who understood the importance of handling both right.


	26. 58 Enemies

**&**

**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 58 Enemies**

**Word count: 1526**

**Characters: Dante, Lady**

**Title: Unholy Angel (How You've Fallen into Mercy)**

**Rating: G**

**Warnings: Length. Eh, whatever, it's good, because it's an unusual setting for them. I don't see either as particularly religious about anything other than gun maintenance and eliminating as many demonic threats as possible. But fanon seems to think Mary/Lady was raised religiously, and I'm inclined to agree somewhat, although I think she was rather rebellious about it or at least disinterested. I suppose a Christian might be offended by the idea of this, but I'm Christian and I don't find it offensive, so feel free to PM me if you do. I'm happy to discuss the possible heresy here. The theme comes in with the idea that demons and the church are enemies, obviously.**

**Disclaimer-bot: The author chick would like it to be known once again, that she does not own Devil May Cry or any of its affiliated characters. **

**&**

He went to Sunday service with her all of once, but she hadn't dragged him, nor had he been flippant about it. But then, neither of them was there for the service itself, instead they were there for reconnaissance. People, especially in America, where Christianity was somehow the dominant religion still even in the modern era, liked to think churches and other religious buildings were clear of evil and demons, but that was just not the case. Demons were everywhere, anywhere they could get in to hide and hunker down and soak up human emotions as food until they had forms strong enough to go after a physical meal in this realm.

This particular case hadn't gotten that far yet, but they wanted to nip it in the bud before it got there, if indeed anything was going on in the new non-denominational church. Didn't look like it from the outside, but they couldn't be sure unless they could get inside and go over things with a finer-toothed comb, and they didn't exactly feel like breaking and entering on a church. Religious he was not, and neither was she as much anymore, and superstitious was almost laughable in describing them, because they fought what everyone thought wasn't real, but it just didn't sit right with either hunter to do that.

So they'd gone to a Sunday service, and she'd only winced a little when the pastor announced the passing out of communion – they had to look normal, as normal as they could, him with white hair and her with bi-colored eyes. So she couldn't wince outright, couldn't act like she had any fear of what was supposed to be a blessing. The problem was, she didn't know if he even knew what it was, didn't know if he would take it in ignorance or bypass it because he couldn't trust something he couldn't identify. The bread, crackers really, she noted, was going to come to them from his side, and there was no way she could warn him, not with the reverent silence overbearing them. She half-prayed the juice, wine, or whatever it was would come from her side, but as usual, God decided not to answer her.

No stopping it, and he lifted a cup out after deftly picking out one of the crackers, passing the first tray to her while he effortlessly balanced the heavier one on his splayed palm. It looked normal enough, but she knew how devilishly easy it was for him, and knew it was far from normal. Still couldn't warn him, and she fervently hoped he didn't burst into flames or have his demonic side trigger into visibility from consuming what she knew was diluted wine from downing her own small glass half-piously. He didn't even twitch, although he quirked a brow ever so slightly at the way she was avidly watching his throat work on swallowing the pasty mix of cracker and wine, probably making some mental wise-crack about her wanting his neck and some necking. Whatever. If he was okay, then she didn't care.

As they walked out later though, she had to ask, waiting until he had clasped hands firmly with the pastor, even though they could have bypassed the line of leaving parishioners and gone on their way without having done the benediction or whatever it was. Her mother would be upset at how little Lady, or Mary as she had been, remembered of church life, and in a way, she herself was upset, because it showed just how far behind her past was from her, even the things that hadn't been all bad. This was too weird for her now, though, this whole belief in saving grace from a higher power and the propriety was just not something she wanted to take part in anymore…maybe she could come on Christmas and Easter, although holidays tended to set the demon-summoning nuts to work full-bore, and her by conjunction.

He didn't look bad at all as they walked out, in a red fine-weave cotton shirt, button-down with pearl faces and black slacks so deep they looked like ink that had spilled loosely down his legs. She wondered where he had gotten the clothes, but berated herself for thinking he only kept leather coats and pants in shades from red to black. If she could have a wardrobe beyond mini-skirts and white-tops in a punk school-girl style, then he could have one too, she knew.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Take the sacrament…you're, you know, you."

"Yep, I'm me alright, sexy as ever! Seriously," he paused as he opened her door on his old red convertible and then passed around the back to the other side to sit in the driver's seat, "I know what you mean."

The engine revved he threw it into reverse gear, loosening the clutch, the brake, and shifting as fluidly as a professional race-car driver, and he looked backward to check for pedestrians in such a normal fashion she wanted to laugh. As if he couldn't sense where every single person in the lot was without seeing them, as if he needed to know what was behind him before he tossed the car into first and drove off. He was too abnormal to be normal, this whole thing was too normal to be real for them – she could not count how many times she had politely debunked the idea that they were a young couple today, as flattering as it was that people thought that based on how well they looked together alone.

She supposed it was only fair, her wearing a red knee-length peasant skirt and black v-neck dress tank-top, in direct flip of his outfit's colors. It rankled a little though, because she didn't like him, and not all young women were out looking for a boyfriend or whatever. Definitely not him, not a guy who didn't even give a straight answer to a very straight-forward question, although she supposed he had probably just not wanted anyone to overhear, as he was answering her now that they were sitting at a street-light a few blocks away.

"It's not blessed, babe, and even if it was, I wouldn't be hurt by it. Holy water we use isn't blessed water, it's a potion – and I have some advantages from both sides. Wards don't floor me like they do most demons, they just make my skin crawl."

"Lovely. Did your parents intend to breed super-warriors? It would make for a great movie franchise, or some other cheap entertainment industry cash-in. They could title it, the 'Super Sparda Syndicate' or something, and then you could run around in skin-tight spandex, shouting 'for Sparda', at the top of your lungs."

"Ha, ha, ha! You just want to see my ass in tight clothes, don't you, babe? You know what they say, 'Show me yours, I'll show you mine, tool time'."

"Ugh, no. Pass, demon, I do not want to know if you're hung like an animal or something."

"Hm. So you say. Pastor's not aware of a damn thing."

"Think that's odd? He spends the most time there, or at least you would think he does."

"It's odd, yeah. He wears too many rings."

"Feel anything?"

"No. But I think he's just a puppet, not the master."

"Hm. If I was a demon and I needed a human tool, I'd have to say that getting one that can manipulate other humans would be ideal."

"That's kinda what I thought, Lady. Glad to know we're on the same page."

"Come back tonight?"

"No, they have an evening service…geeze, did you sleep through his sermon or what?"

"I was a little distracted with praying I didn't end up sitting next to a very realistic display of hell-spawn."

He laughed and turned another corner, putting them on a country road that she had no idea where it led to, and at the next bend he shifted up, getting a loud roar from his old red ride and taking the long curve at high speed. Thrill-seeker, she accused him, but she didn't mind too much, and she laughed as he took the hill as slow as possible, mock fretting about speed limits like an old man. She played along, telling him he'd make her hair as white as his if he drove over twenty-five again, and she hoped the police took his license, because he was too old to see the road well.

Riding back from church had never been so fun in her life, and she privately laughed to herself about the irony and sacrilege involved in going to church with a devil – even if as he had explained, the church and demons had no enmity, not in real life. She just wished the same could be said of humans and demons, or at least that if God did exist, he would intervene occasionally and lower the number of bodies she had to see as results of the only supernatural actions she knew of. Until that unlikely event, she would have to continue being a warrior of night, a dark angel averter of tragedies, along with the fallen angel beside her.


	27. 10 Sickness

**&**

**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 10 Sickness**

**Word count: 418**

**Characters: Dante, Lady**

**Title: Foods for Sickness (It's Sick That You'll Eat That)**

**Rating: G**

**Warnings: Um, nothing? Fluff, I guess, if that bothers you, or the idea of pregnant!Lady. Yeah, that's pretty scary, actually, especially when they're Dante's spawn too. Run away!**

**Disclaimer-bot: The author chick would like it to be known once again, that she does not own Devil May Cry or any of its affiliated characters.**

**&**

"Dante, Dante, wake-up!" Somebody was shaking him, jarring his shoulders roughly, and he only knew one person that could be doing it at this hour and place. He sat up slowly, twisting at the waist to face that somebody through the gloom of the night.

"I'm up, I'm up. Wha'cha want, babe? Need somethin'?"

"I'm hungry. Go fix me a sandwich, with kraut, and ooh, Swiss cheese, and glazed turkey, and tuna. I don't care what else you put on it."

"Whoa, babe. Kraut? Tuna? Darlin', I know you're feedin' the little monsters whatever they want, but that is not an appetizing combo."

"It's what I want, I can't help it!"

He chuckled and leaned over to kiss her soothingly, not really wanting her mad at him on top of catering to her crazy midnight snack cravings. She'd make him go to the store for something then, probably black cherry ice cream or olives, like the last couple of times he'd gone. This was better than a month or so ago though, better than jolting awake to the sounds of gagging from the master suite's adjoining bathroom. Her morning sickness had sucked for both of them, because it made her extra cranky and besides having to take that, he had to take the smell of puke too.

The devil hunter padded downstairs and slapped together her sandwich, glad that they actually had the ingredients on hand. He hated grocery shopping, and midnight runs were just ridiculous, even if he would have done it for her, either to avert the wrath of the dragon or just to please her because he loved her. He set the huge messy thing on a plate with a couple of paper towels, and had the foresight to grab a glass of water if she wanted it, before noiselessly proceeding back upstairs.

She practically snatched it from him, settling down and chomping into it avidly, and he almost felt sick himself watching it. Really, cravings or not, some things just did not go together, not even in his mind. And he liked everything on his pizza, except olives. Well, as long as she didn't get sick from it, he wasn't going to complain – he was happy if she was happy and if she was healthy, even if he had no idea how that worked with her diet all strange now that she was eating for three. He laid back down chuckling to himself, thinking this was sickness they could get through, a la the vows.


	28. 59 Lovers

**&**

**DMC OTP100 **

**Prompt # 59 Lovers**

**Word count: 770**

**Characters: Dante, Lady**

**Title: Not an Awkward Noise. (It Just Sounds That Way)**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Warnings and A/N: Lady and Dante with kids. It's a terrifying thought, really. You are forewarned. Also, mentioned adult situation, though it's not graphic, because neither of them wanted the kids to walk in and catch an eyeful. A couple of minor swear words.**

**Disclaimer-bot: The author chick would like it to be known once again, that she does not own Devil May Cry or any of its affiliated characters.**

**&**

Pit-pat. Pit-pat. Slip-slap. Slip-slap. Thump. Thump. Silence for a few moments, then the light patter of something small moving across wood returned. Something else began moving too, the same sounds of movement on hardwood flooring echoing after the first set. The stairs creaked tiredly, as if exasperated with their climbers. The protest went unnoticed, as the sounds began again at the head of the stairs, muted breathing and soft 'shushing' sounds breaking the steady beat of movement occasionally.

"Mm, oh! …Ah…oh, oh, oh! Ah, you…ah, damn. Damn you."

"Mmm, mmhm. Where…ah, there…oh, yeah, there. Oh, yeah, babe. You like it."

"Demon…pervert. Oh...do that again. Do it!"

"Ha, ha, ha…do what? This? That? Ouch, hey! …No need to be so pushy, darlin', we'll get there…ah! Don't do that…you know I can't…ah. Ah! …ah, shit…ah, ah…"

The sounds had stopped, movement ground to a halt outside the heavy dark oak door in the upper hallway. There were other sounds filtering out from there, sounds that had eclipsed the sounds of movement once they had ascended the stairs, that kept the creators from hearing outside the door. These sounds were different, were heavier, less regular and organized, and somehow they carried more weight. Slap. Slap. Rustle. Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak. Squelch. Grunt.

"You go in."

"What? No way!"

"I don't want to, daddy will get mad at me. You're his favorite!"

"Daddy doesn't have a favorite! Mommy will be mad…"

"Mommy's mad a lot."

"'Cause daddy makes her mad."

"…Is he making her mad now?"

"…They don't sound mad."

"You go in anyway."

One of the listeners outside of the doorway enclosing the strange sounds glared at the other grumpily. The other, of course, refused to even bat an eye at this, and silence stretched between them tensely. After a bit, a sigh broke the standoff, and then a shuffle of feet followed nervously. Huff. Shift-scuff. Clap-thunk. Swallow. Click. Creak.

"...Mommy? Daddy?"

Gasp. Grunt. Shift-slip. Hiss. Moan. Billow, whip. Rustle. Pant. Pant. Harrumph.

"Taran…sweetie, did you need something?"

"Yeah, um, uh, hi daddy, um…"

"Hey kiddo dos. Wha'cha need?"

"Um, uh….What do we need again, Aidan?"

"You're a dumb-butt."

"Hey!"

"Aidan, that wasn't nice. Tell your little brother you're sorry."

"…Sorry."

More silence, awkwardly filling the darkened bedroom like the red décor already in it, slight sounds breaking it occasionally. Rustling sheets. Shifting feet. Breathing, heavy and light. A little grunt from one of the room's bed occupants, trying to move. A strained groan through teeth from the other at the attempt. The two intruders shared a silent glance, jaws opening with slight pops of tiny lips. Eyes wide. Voices serious as both speak at once.

"Um…are you okay, mommy?"

"Wha…yes, mommy's fine, sweeties. Didn't you want something?"

"Oh, yeah! Right, um, well, can we go outside and play?"

"'Yeah, please? 'Cause you said we couldn't go outside because daddy was gone, only he's not, so, um, so…."

"Can we go outside now, please?"

"…Boys. I told you that you couldn't go outside without your father. He's…busy, so you'll have to wai…"

"Go on out, kiddos. But take Cerberus and Ifrit with you."

"Um, okay."

"Why?"

"Because I'm still busy with your mother right now."

"Oh. …What are you and mommy doing? Will you be done soon?"

"We're…wrestling. Yeah, that."

"Oh. Can we wrestle too?"

"Ah, no. It's boring wrestling. Not like wrestling with your brother and me."

"Oh. Okay. So…we can go outside and play?"

"Yep."

"Okay! Bye daddy, bye mommy!"

"Bye sweeties."

"Later, kiddos."

Pit-pat. Pit-pat. Grasp, swing. Click. Pit-pat. Pit-pat. Thump. Thump. Giggle. Whump. Giggle. Scrape-clang. Thunk, scuff, drag. Click. Whoosh. Click. Laughing. Shouting.

Dante leaned back away from Lady just a bit, smirking at her still flaming red face. He could see the light flare up from Ifrit and Cerberus taking forms that could guard and interact with the boys, red and blue, from the window that faced the back of the shop. He bent back over her, arching his back and re-angling his body, still with the smirk on his face. She shifted back too, slowly, hips widening again and legs sliding back up his own, red color falling out of her face with an exasperated grin replacing it.

"Kids." Both of their voices carried the same tone of wry amusement.

"So…we're busy, eh?"

"Me first. Them later. And wrestling?"

"Well, I could have said tangoing, but that would be…"

"Wrong, just plain wrong. …Switch me."

"Wha? No, I didn't get my fair time."

"Switch me or I'll leave you hanging."

"Leave yourself hanging too, y'know. …Sheesh."

Rustle. Squeak-creak. Squish-squelch, slip. Creak. Creak. Slap. Slap. Moan. Hiss. Laugh. Snort. Squeak. Creak.


End file.
